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I 



THE CHRISTIAN YEAH 



THE 



l^i^ 



THOUGHTS IN VERSE 



SUNDAYS km HOLIDAYS THROUGHOUT THE YEAR. 



BY THE REV. JOHN KEBLE, M. A., 

AUTHOll 05" " LYRA INNOCKNTIUM," KTC. 



lo otiietneea ;md in confidence ehall be your strentJh. — Isaiah wx. IS. 



FBOM THa THiaTr-FIEST LONDON EDITION 



PHILADELPHIA. 

TI HOOKER, S. Vr. COE. CHESTNUT AND EIGHTH STS. 

\ S . 



1 660 






ADYERTISEMENT. 



Next to a sound rule of faitli, there is nothing of 
so much consequence as a sober standard of feeling 
in matters of practical religion : and it is the peculiar 
happiness of the Ch(irch of England to possess, in lier 
authorized formularies, an ample and secure provision 
for both. But in times of much leisure and un- 
bounded curiosity, when excitement of every kind is 
sought afler v^ith a morbid eagerness, this part of the 
merit of our Liturgy is likely in some measure to be 
lost, on many even of its sincere admirers : the very 
tempers, which most require such discipline, setting 
themselves, in general, most decidedly against it. 

The object of the present publication will be at- 
tained, if any person find assistance from it in bring- 
1* 



VI ADVERTISEMENT. 

ing his own thoughts and feelings into more entire 
unison with those recommended and exemplified in 
the Prayer Book. The work does not furnish a com- 
plete series of compositions ; being, in many parts, 
rather adapted with more or less propriety to the suc- 
cessive portions of the Liturgy, than originally sug- 
gested by them. Something has been added at the 
end concerning the several Occasional Services : 
which constitute, from their personal and domestic 
nature, the most perfect instance of that soothing 
tendency in the Prayer Book, which it is the chief 
purpose of these pages to exhibit. 



CONTENTS. 



Pag a 

Morning . , ^" 

Evening ...••••• ^' 

Advent Sunday ^^ 

Second Sunday in Advent. The signs of the Times 26 

Third Sunday in Advent. The Travellers . . 29 

Fourth Sunday in Advent. Dimness ... 33 

Christmas Day ^"^ 

St. Stephen's Day 41 

St. John's Day 44 

The Holy Innocents 47 

First Sunday after Christmas. The Sun-dial of Ahaz 50 

The Circumcision ^* 

Second Sunday after Christmas. The Pilgrim's Song 58 

The Epiphany ^2 

First Sunday after Epiphany. The Nightingale . 66 
Second Sunday after Epiphany. The secret of Per- 
petual Youth ^9 

Third Sunday after Epiphany. The Good Centurion 73 
Fourth Sunday after Epiphany. The world is for Ex- 
citement, the Gospel for Soothing . . • ^78 



Vlll 



CONTENTS. 



Cure Sin and you cine 



Fifth Sunday after Epiphany. 

Sorrow ..,,..,. 81 

Sixth Sunday after Epiphany. The Benefits of Un- 
certainty ........ 86 

Septuagesima Sunday »,,.... 91 

Sexagesima Sunday 94 

Quinquagesima Sunday 98 

Ash-Wednesday . . . . . , . 102 
First Sunday in Lent. The City of Refuge . . 105 
Second Sunday in Lent. Esau's Forfeit . . 108 

Third Sunday in Lent. The Spoils of Satan . . 112 
Fourth Sunday in Lent. The Rosehud . . . 116 
Fifth Sunday in Lent. The Burning Bush . .120 
Sunday next before Easter. The Children in the Temple 125 
Monday before Easter. Christ waiting for the Cross 128 
Tuesday before Easter. Christ refusing the Wine and 

Myrrh .132 

Wednesday before Easter. Christ in the Garden . 135 
Thursday before Easter. The Vision of the latter Days 140 



Good Friday ........ 

Easter Eve . . . . . . . . 

Easter Day ........ 

Monday in Easter Week. St. Peter and Cornelius . 
Tuesday in Easter Week. The Snow-drop - 
First Sunday after Easter. The restless Pastor 
proved ........ 

Second Sunday after Easter. 
Third Sunday after Easter. 
Fourth Sunday after Easter. 
Fifth Sunday after Easter. 
Ascension Day 



Balaam . 
Languor and Travail 

The Dove on the Cross 
The Priest's Intercessor 



144 
148 
152 
156 
160 

164 
168 
172 
175 
ISO 
184 



CONTENTS. IX 

Sunday after Ascension Day. Seed-fime . . 187 

Whitsunday 192 

Monday in Whitsun-week. The City of Confusion 195 
Tuesday in Whitsun-week. Holy Orders . . 200 

Trinity Sunday 205 

First Sunday after Trinity. Israel among the Ruins of 

Canaan 209 

Second Sunday after Trinity. Charity the Life of Faith 212 
Third Sunday after Trinity. Comfort for Sinners in the 
presence of the Good ...... 217 

Fourth Sunday after Trinity. The Groans of Nature 220 
Fifth Sunday after Trinity. The Fishermen of Beth- 

saida . . * 226 

Sixth Sunday after Trinity. The Psalmist repenting 230 
Seventh Sunday after Trinity. The Feast in the Wil- 
derness ........ 234 

Eighth Sunday after Trinity. The Disobedient Pro- 
phet 238 

Ninth Sunday after Trinity. Elijah in Horeb . 241 
Tenth Sunday after Trinity. Christ weeping over Jeru- 
salem ........ 242 

Eleventh Sunday after Trinity. Gehazi reproved . 248 
Twelfth Sunday after Trinity. The Deaf and Dumb 251 
Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity. Moses on the Mount 255 
Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity. The Ten Lepers 260 
Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. The Flowers of the 

Field 263 

^sixteenth Sunday after Trinity. Hope is better than 

Ease , 266 

'^'aventeenth Sunday after Trinity. Ezekiel's Vision in 
the Teniple ....... 269 



CONTENTS. 



Eighteenth Sunday after Trinity. The Church in the 

Wilderness 273 

Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity. Shadrach, Meshach, 

and Abednego 280 

'J''^'eatieth Sunday after Trinity. Mountain Scenery 2S2 
fwenty-first Sunday after Trinity. The Red-breast in 

September ....... 285 

Twenty-sec Odd Sunday after Trinity. The Rule of 

Christian Forgiveness ..... 2S8 

Twenty-third Sunday after Trinity. Forest Leaves m 

Autumn 291 

Twenty-fourth Sunday after Trinity. Imperfection of 

Human Sympathy ...... 295 

Twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity. The two Rainbows 299 
Sunday next before Advent. Self-examination before 



1 



Advent 


303 


St. Andrew's Day 


307 


St. Thomas the Apostle . . . . . 


310 


Conversion of St. Paul ..... 


315 


Purification of St. Mary the Virgin 


320 


St. Matthias' Day 


324 


Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary 


327 


St. Mark's Day 


331 


St. Philip and St. James' Day 


33J 


St. Barnabas the Apostle . • . • 


337 


St. John Baptist's Day 


341 


St. Peter's Day 


34rf 


St. James the Apostle ..... 


349 


St. Bartholomew the Apostle . . . • 


3/33 


St. Matthew the Apostle .... 


.357 


St. MicViael and all Angels .... 


361 



CONTENTS. 






XI 


St. Luke the Evangelist 365 


St. Simon and St. Jude, Apostles . 


370 


All Saints' Day 


373 


Holy Communion 




376 


Holy Baptism 






380 


Catechism 






383 


Confirmation 






386 


Matrimony 






389 


Visitation and Communion of the Sick 






392 


Burial of the Dead 






395 


Churching of Women 






399 


Commiiiation .... 






401 


Forms of Prayer to be used at Sea . 






404 


Gunpowder Treason 






407 


King Charles the Martyr 






411 


The Restoration of the Royal Family 






414 


The Accession .... 






418 


Ordination 






421 


Index .... 






4^5 



MOMING. 



Ilia compassions fail not. They are new every morning. 

Lament, iii. ^, 23 



Hues of the rich unfolding morn, — 
That, ere the glorious sun be born, 
By some soft touch imisible 
Around his path are taught to swell ; — 

Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay. 
That dancest forth at opening day. 
And brushing by with joyous wing, 
Wakenest each little leaf to sing ;-— 

Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam, 
By which deep grove and tangled stream 
Pay, for soft rains in season given, 
Their tribute to the genial heaven ; — 
2 



14 MORNING. 

Why waste your treasures of delight 
Upon our thankless, joyless sight ; 
Who day by day to sin awake, 
Seldom of heaven and you partake 1 

Oh ! timely happy, timely wise, 
Hearts that with rising morn arise, 
Eyes that the beam celestial view, 
Which evermore makes all things new*! 

New every morning is the love 
Our wakening and uprising prove ; 
Through sleep and darkness safely brought, 
Restored to life, and power, and thought. 

New mercies, each returning day, 

Hover around us while we pray ; 

New perils past, new sins forgiven. 

New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. 

If on our daily course our mind 
Be set to hallow all we find, 
New treasures still, of countless price 
God will provide for sacrifice. 

» Revel.'Uions xxi. 5. 



moi^:n^ing-. 



15 



Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be. 
As more of heaven in each we see : 
Some softening gleam of love and prayer 
Shall dawn on every cross and care. 

As for some dear familiar stram 
llntired we ask, and ask again. 
Ever, in its melodious store. 
Finding a spell unheard before ; 

Such is the bliss of souls serene. 

When they have sworn, and steadfast nieanj 

Counting the cost, in all to' espy 

Their God, in all themselves deny. 

O could we learn that sacrifice, 
What lights would all around us rise ! 
How would our hearts with wisdom talk 
Along Life's dullest dreariest walk ! 

We need not bid, for cloister'd cell. 
Our neighbour and our work farewell, 
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high 
For sinful man beneath the sky : 



Ifi MOHNINfJ. 

The trivial round, the common task. 
Would furnish all we ought to ask ; 
Room to deny ourselves ; a road 
To brin^y us, daily, nearer God, 

Seek we no more,* content with these, 
Let present Rapture, Comfort, ICase, 
As Heaven shall bid them, come and '^o: 
The secret this of Rest below. 

Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love 
Fit us for perfect Rest above ; 
And help us, this and every day, 
To live more nearly as we pray, 



4 



EVENING 



^bide with us : for it is toward evening, and the day is ftsc 
spent. St. Luke xxiv. 29. 



' Tis gone, that bright and orbed blaze, 
Fast fading from our wistful gaze ; 
Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight 
The last faint pulse of quivering light. 

in darkness and in weariness 
The traveller on his way must press, 
No gleam to watch on tree or tower, 
Whiling away the lonesome hour. 

Sun of my soul ! Thou Saviour dear, 
It is not night if Thou be near : 
Oh ! may no earth-born cloud arise 
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes. 
2^ 3 



18 EVENING. 

When round Thy wondrous works below 
My searching rapturous glance I throw, 
Tracing out Wisdom, Power, and Love, 
In earth or sky, in stream or grove ; — 

Or by the light Thy words disclose 
Watch Time's full river as it flows, 
Scanning Thy gracious Providence, 
Where not too deep for mortal sense : — - 

When with dear friends sweet talk I hold, 
And all the flowers of life unfold ; 
Let not my heart within me burn. 
Except in all I Thee discern. 

When the soft dews of kindly sleep 
My wearied eyelids gently steep. 
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest 
For ever on my Saviour's breast. 

Abide with me from morn till eve. 
For without Thee I cannot live : 
Abide with me when night is nigh, 
For without Thee I dar<» not dio 



EVENING. 19 

Thou Framer of the light and dark, 
Steer through the tempest Thine own ark '-. 
Amid the howling wintry sea 
We are in port if we have Thee^. 

The Rulers of this Christian land, 
'Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand, 
Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright, 
Let all do all as in Thy sight. 

Oh ! by Thine own sad burthen, borne 
So meekly up the hill of scorn, 
Teach Thou thy Priests Their daily cross 
To bear as Thine, nor count it loss ! 

If some poor wandering child of Thine 
Have spurn'd, to-day, the voice divine, 
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin ; 
Let him no more lie down in sin. 

Watch by the sick : enrich the poor 
With blessings from Thy boundless store , 
Be every mourner's sleep to-night 
Like infant's slunabers, pure and light. 

b Then they willinglj- received Him into the ship : and imraediaielv 
the ship was at the land whither they went. — St John vi. 21. 



20 EVENING. 

Come near and bless us when we waka 
Ere through the world our way we ta^e 
Till in the ocean of Thy love 
We loss ourselves in Heaven above. 



ADVENT SUNDAY. 



Now it is high time to awake out of sleep : for now is our srilvatica 
nearer lha\i when we believed. — Ro7nans y:n'i. 11. 



Awake — again the Gospel-trump is blown — 
From year to year it swells with louder tone, 
From year to year the signs of wrath 
Are gathering round the Judge's path, 
Strange words fulfiU'd, and mighty works achieved, 
And truth in all the world both hated and believed. 

Awake ! why linger in the gorgeous tov/n, 
Sworn liegemen of the Cross and thorny crown ? 
Up from your beds of sloth for shame, 
Speed to the eastern mount like flame, 
N'or wonder, should v/e find your King in tears, 
Even with the loud Hosanna ringing in His ears. 



'J,2 ADVENT SUNDAY. 

Alas! no need to rouse them: lono; asro 
They are gone forth to swell Messiah's show : 
With glittering robes and garlands sweet 
They strew the ground beneath His feet : 
All but your hearts are there — O doomM to prove 
The arrows winged in Heaven for Faith that will not 
love ! 

Meanwhile He paces through th' adoring crowd, 
Calm as the march of some majestic cloud, 
That o'er wild scenes of ocean-war 
Holds its still course in Heaven afar : 
Even so, heart-searching Lord, as years roll on, 
Thou keepest silent watch from Thy triumphal thronis: 

Even so, the world is thronging round to gaze 
On the dread vision of the latter days, 

Constrain'd to own Thee, but in heart 

Prepared to take Barabbas' part : 
*' Hosanna" now, to-morrow " Crucify," 
The changeful burden still of their rude lawless cry. 

Yet in that throno; of selfish hearts untrue 
Thy sad eye rests upon Thy faithful few. 



ADVENT SUNDAY. 23 

Children and childlike souls are there, 

Blind Bartimeus' humble prayer, 
And Lazarus waken'd from his four days' sleep, 
Enduring life again, that Passover to keep. 

And fast beside the olive-border'd way 

Stands the bless'd home, where Jesus deign'd to stay, 
The peaceful home, to Zeal sincere 
And heavenly Contemplation dear. 

Where Martha loved to wait with reverence meet, 

And wiser Mary linger' d at Thy sacred feet. 

Still through decaying ages as they glide. 
Thou lov'st Thy chosen remnant to divide ; 
Sprinkled along the waste of years 
Full many a soft green isle appears : 
Pause where we may upon the desert road, 
Some shelter is in sight, some sacred safe abode. 

When withering blasts of error swept the sky*', 
\.nd Love's last flower seem'd fain to droop and die, 

How sweet, how lone the ray benign 

On shelter'd nooks of Palestine ! 

c Arianism in the fourth century. 



n 



24 ADVENT SUNDAY. 

Then to his early home did Love repah'^, 
And cheer' d his sickening heart with his own native 
air. 

Years roll away : again the tide of crime 

Has swept Thy footsteps from the favour'd clime. 

Where shall the holy Cross find rest? 

On a crown'd monarch's® mailed breast : 
Like some bright angel o'er the darkling scene, 
Through court and camp he holds his heavenward 
course serene. 



A fouler vision yet ; an age of light, 
Light without love, glares on the aching sight : 
O who can tell how calm and swee;, 
Meek Walton ! shows thy green retreat, 
When wearied with the tale thy times disclose, 
The eye first finds thee out in thy secure repose 

Thus bad and good their several warnings give 
Of His approach, whom none may see and live : 
Faith's ear, with awful still delight. 
Counts them like minute-bells at night, 

d See St. Jerome's Works, i 123. edit. Erasm. 
- (St. Louis i» the thirteenth century. 



ADVENT 'SUNDAY. 25 

Keeping the heart awake till dawn of morn, 
While to her funeral pile this aged world is borne. 

But what are Heaven's alarms to hearts that cower 
In wilful slumber, deepening every hour, 
That draw their curtains closer round. 
The nearer swells the trumpet's sound 1 
Lord, ere our trembling lamps sink down and die, 
Touch us with chastening hand, and make us feel 
Thee nigh. 



SECOND SUNDAY IN ADYENT. 



And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up, and lift 
up your heads ; for your redemption draweth nigh. — St. Luke xxi. 28 



Not till the freezing blast is still, 

Till freely leaps the sparkling rill. 

And gales sweep soft from summer skies, 

As o'er a sleeping infant's eyes 

A. mother's kiss ; ere calls like these. 

No sunny gleam awakes the trees, 

Nor dare the tender flowerets show 

Their bosoms to th' uncertain glow. 

Why then, in sad and wintry time, 
Her heavens all dark with doubt and crime. 
Why lifts the Church her drooping head, 
As though her evil hour were fled? 
Is she less wise than leaves of spring, 
Or birds that cower with folded wing ? 
What sees she in this lowering sky 
To tempt her meditative eye? 



SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 27 

She has a charm, a word of fire, 
A pledge of love that cannot tire ; 
By tempests, earthquakes, and by wars, 
By rushing waves and falling stars. 
By every sign her Lord foretold, 
She sees the world is waxing old^. 
And through that last and direst storm 
Descries by faith her Saviour's form. 

Not surer does each tender gem, 
Set in the fig-tree's polished stem. 
Foreshow the summer season bland, 
Than these dread signs Thy mighty hand. 
But oh ! frail hearts, and spirits dark ! 
The season's flight unwarn'd we mark. 
But miss the Judge behind the door ?, 
For all the light of sacred lore : 

Yet is He there : beneath our eaves 
Each sound His wakeful ear receives : 
Hush, idle words, and thoughts of ill. 
Your Lord is listening : peace, be still ^. 

' Tlie world hath lost his youth, and the times begin to wax ola. — 
Esdras xiv. 10. g f^^t St. James v. 9. 

'1 Ita fabulantur, ut qui sciant Dominum audire. — Tertull. Apolog., 
p 36 edit. Rij^alt. 



28 SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT, 

Christ watches by a Christian's hearth, 
Be silent, " vain deluding mirth," 
Till in thine alter'd voice be known 
Somewhat of Resignation's tone. 

But chiefly ye should lift your gaze 
Above the world's uncertain haze. 
And look with calm unwavering eye 
On the bright fields beyond the sky, 
Ye, who your Lord's commission bear 
His way of mercy to prepare : 
Angels He calls ye ; be your strife 
To lead on earth an Angel's life. 

Think not of rest ; though dreams be sweet, 
Start up, and ply your heavenward feet. 
Is not God's oath upon your head. 
Ne'er to sink back on slothful bed. 
Never again your loins untie. 
Nor let your torches waste and die, 
Till, when the shadows thickest fall, 
Ye hear your Master's midnight call ? 



THIKD SUNDAY IN ADYENT 



What went ye out into the wilderness to see ? a reed shaken \vit!i 
Ihe wmd? . . . But what went ye out for to see? a prophet? yea, 1 
say unto you, and more than a prophet. — St. Matthew xi. 7, 9. 



What went ye out to see 

O'er the rude sandy lea, 
Where stately Jordan flows by many a palm, 

Or where Gennesaret's wave 

Delights the flowers to lave. 
That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm 1 

All through the summer night, 

Those blossoms red and bright ^ 
Spread their soft breasts, unheeding, to the breeze. 

Like hermits watching still 

Around the sacred hill. 
Where erst our Saviour watch'd upon His knees. 

i Rhododendrons: with which the western bank cf the lake is said 
lo be clothed down to the water's edge. 
3=^ 



30 THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

The Paschal moon above 

Seems like a saint to rove, 
Left shining m the world with Christ alone ; 

Below, the lake's still face 

Sleeps sweetly in th' embrace 
Of mountains terraced high with mossy ston'3. 

Here may we sit, and dream 

Over the heavenly theme, 
Till to our soul the former days return ; 

Till on the grassy bed. 

Where thousands once He fed, 
The world's incarnate Maker we discern. 

O cross no more the main, 

Wandering so wild and vain. 
To count the reeds that tremble in the wind, 

On listless dalliance bound 

Like children gazing round. 
Who on God's works no seal of Godhead find 

Bask not in courtly bower, 
Or sun-bright hall of power. 
Pass Babel quick, and seek the holy land — 



THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 31 

From robes of Tyrian dye 
Turn with undazzled eye 
To Bethlehem's glade, or Carmel's haunted stiand. 

Or choose thee out a cell 

In Kedron's storied dell, 
Beside the springs of Love, that never die ; 

Among the olives kneel 

The chill nio-ht-blast to feel, 
And watch the Moon that saw thy Master's agon)r. 

Then rise at dawn of day, 

And wind thy thoughtful way. 
Where rested once the Temple's stately shade^ 

With due feet tracing round 

The city's northern bound. 
To th' other holy garden, where the Lord was laid. 

Who thus alternate see 

His death and victory, 
Rismg and falling as on angel wings, 

They, while they seem to roam, 

Draw daily nearer home, 
Thei'' heart untravell'd still adores the King of kings. 



32 THIKO SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

Or, if at home they stay, 

Yet are they, day by day, 
In spirit journeying through the glorious land, 

Not for light Fancy's reed. 

Nor Honour's purple meed, 
Nor gifted Prophet's lore, nor Science' wondrous wand 

But more than Prophet, more 

Than Angels can adore 
With face unveil'd, is He they go to seek : 

Blessed be God, Whose grace 

Shows Him in every place 
To homeliest hearts of pilgrims pure and n).eek* 



FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 



Itt 9y es of them that see shall not be dim, and the ears of them thiti 
hear shall hearken. — Isaiah xxxii. 3. 



Op the bright things in earth and air 
How little can the heart embrace ! 

Soft shades and gleaming lights are there»«— 
I know it well, but cannot trace. 

Mine eye unworthy seems to read 

One page of Nature's beauteous book : 

It lies before me, fair outspread — 
I only cast a wishful look. 

I cannot paint to Memory's eye 

The scene, the glance, I dearest love- 
Unchanged themselves, in me they die. 
Or faint, or false, their shadows prove. 



34? FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

In vain, with dull and tuneless eai, 
I linger by soft Music's cell, 

And in my heart of hearts would hear 
What to her own she deigns to tell. 



"Tis misty all, both sight and sound— 
I only know 'tis fair and sweet — 

'T is wandering on enchanted ground 
With dizzy brow and tottering feet. 

But patience ! there may come a time 
When these dull ears shall scan ario;ht 

Strains, that outring Earth's drowsy chime 
As Heaven outshines the taper's light.. 

These eyes, that dazzled now and weak. 
At glancing motes in sunshine wink, 

Shall see the King's^ full glory break. 
Nor from the blissful vision shrink : 



k Tliine eyes shall see the King in His beauty : they shall behold the 
[and that is very far off. — Isaiah xxxiii. 17. 



FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT, 35 

In fearless love and hope uncloy'd 

For ever on that ocean bright 
Empower'd to gaze ; and undestroy'd, 

Deeper and deeper plunge in Light. 

Though scarcely now their laggard glance 
Reach to an arrow's flight, that day 

They shall behold, and not in trance, 
Th-e region " very far away." 

If Memory sometimes at our spell 
Refuse to speak, or speak amiss, 

"We shall not need her where we dwell 
Ever in sight of all our bliss. 

Meanwhile, if over sea or sky 

Some tender lights unnoticed fleet, 

Or on loved features dawn and die, 
Unread, to us, their lesson sweet ; 

Yet are there saddening sights around, 
Which Heaven, in mercy, spares us too, 

And we see far in holy ground, 
If duly purged our mental view. 



FOUKTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

The distant landscape draws not nigh 
For all our gazing ; but the soul, 

That upward looks, may still descry- 
Nearer, each day, the brightening goal. 

And thou, too curious ear, that fain 
Wouldst thread the maze of Harmony 

Content thee with one simple strain, 
The lowlier, sure, the worthier thee ; 

Till thou art duly trained, and taught 
The concord sweet of Love divme : 

Then, with that inward Music fraught, 
For ever rise, and sing, and shine. 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 



And suddenly there was with the Angel a multitude of the heavenlf 
host praising God. — St, Luke 11. 13. 



What sudden blaze of song 

Spreads o'er the expanse of Heaven ? 
In waves of light it thrills along, 
Th' angelic signal given — 
" Glory to God !" from yonder central fire 
Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry quire ; 

Like circles widening round 
TTpon a clear blue river, 
Orb after orb, the wondrous sound 
Is echo'd on for ever : 
" Glory to God on high, on earth be peace, 
"And love towards men of love' — salvation and 
" release." 

• I have ventured to adopt the reading of the Vulgate, as being 
generally known through Pergolesi's beautiful composition, " Gloria 
in exr-elsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibits bonce voluntatis** 
4 



38 CHRISTMAS DAY, 

Yet stay, before thou dare 
To join that festal throng ; 
Listen and mark what gentle air 
First stirr'd the tide of song; 
'T is not, " the Saviour born in David's home, 
** To Whom for power and health obedient worlds 
" should come :" — 

'T is not, " the Christ the Lord :" — 
With fix'd adoring look 
The choir of Angels caught the word. 
Nor yet their silence broke : 
But when they heard the sign, where Christ should 
be, 
In sudden light they shone and heavenly harmony. 

Wrapp'd in His swaddling bands, 
And in His manger laid. 
The Hope and Glory of all lands 
Is come to the world's aid : 
No peaceful home upon His cradle smiJed, 
Guests rudely went and came, where slept the royal 
Child. 



CHRISTMAS DAV. 39 

But where Thou dwellest, Lord, 
No other thought should be, 
Once duly welcomed and adored, 
How should I part with Thee 1 
Bethlehem must lose Thee soon, but Thou wilt 
grace 
The single heart to be Thy sure abiding-place. 

Thee, on the bosom laid 
Of a pure Virgin mind, 
In quiet ever, and in shade. 

Shepherd and sage may find; 
They, who have bow'd untaught to Nature's sway, 
A.nd they, who follow Truth along her star-paved way. 

The pastoral spirits first 

Approach Thee, Babe divine, 
For they in lowly thoughts are nursed, 
Meet for Thy lowly shrine : 
Sooner than they should miss where Thou dost 
dwell, 
A.ngels from Heaven w^ill stoop to guide them to Thy 
cell. 



40 CHRISTMAS DAY. 

Still, as the day comes round 
For Thee to be reveal'd, 
By wakeful shepherds Thou art found, 
Abiding in the field. 
All through the wintry heaven and chill night air, 
In music and in light Thou dawnest on their prayer 

O faint not ye for fear — 

What though your wandering sheep, 
Reckless of what they see and hear, 
Lie lost in wilful sleep ? 
High Heaven in mercy to your sad anr.oy 
Still greets you with glad tidings of immortal joy. 

Think on th' eternal home. 
The Saviour left for you ; 
Thmk on the Lord most holy, come 
To dwell v/ith lioarts untrue: 
So shall ye tread untired His pastoral ways. 
And in the darkness sing your carol of higli praise. 



ST. STEPHEN^S DAY. 

He, being full of the Holy Ghost, looked up steadfastly into heaven, 
and saw the glory of God, and Jesus staiiding on the right hand of 
God. — Acts. vii. 55. 

As rays around the source of light 
Stream upward ere he glow in sight, 
And watching by his future flight 

Set the clear heavens on fire ; 
So on the King of Martyrs wait 
Three chosen bands, in royal statem, 
And all earth owns, of good and great, 

Is gathered in that choir. 

m Wheatly on the Common Prayer, c. v. sect. iv. 2. " As there 
are three kinds of martyrdom, the first both in will and deed, which 
is the highest ; the second in will but not in deed ; the third in deed 
but not in will; so the Church commemorates these martyrs in the 
same order : St. Stephen first, who suffered death both in will and 
deed ; St. John the Evangelist next, who suffered martyrdom in will 
but not in deed ; the holy Innocents last, who suffered in deed but nol 
in will." 



42 ST. STEPHEN'S DAY. 

One presses on, and welcomes death : 
One calmly yields his willing breath, 
Nor slow, nor hurrying, but in faith 

Content to die or live : 
And some, the darlings of their Lord, 
Play smiling with the flame and sword, 
And, ere they speak, to His sure word 

Unconscious witness give. 

Foremost and nearest to His throne, 
By perfect robes of triumph known 
And likest Him in look and tone 

The holy Stephen kneels. 
With steadfast gaze, as when the sk- 
Flew open to his fainting eye. 
Which like a fading lamp flash'd highj 

Seeing what death conceals. 



Well might you guess what vision bright 
Was present to his raptured sight. 
Even as reflected streams of light 
Their solar source betray — 
The glory which our God surrounds. 
The Son of Man, th' atoning wounds — 



ST. STEPHEN'S DAY. 43 

He sees them all ; and earth's dull bounds 
Are melting fast away. 

He sees them all — no other view- 
Could stamp the Saviour's likeness true. 
Or with His love so deep embrue 

Man's sullen heart and gross— 
" Jesu, do Thou my soul receive : 
" Jesu, do Thou my foes forgive :" 
He who would learn that prayer, must live 

Under the holy Cross. 

He, though he seem on earth to move, 
Must glide in air like gentle dove. 
From yon unclouded depths above 

Must draw his purer breath ; 
Till men behold his angel face 
All radiant with celestial grace n, 
Martyr all o'er, and meet to trace 

The lines of Jesus' death. 

a And all that sat in" the council, lookingsteadfastly on h'm, saw his 
face as il had been the face of an angel. — Acts vi. 15. 



ST. JOHN'S DAY. 



Peter seeing him, saith to Jesus, Lord, and what Bhall this man do? 
Jesus saith uiiio him, If 1 will that he tarry till I come, what is that t6 
thee ? follow thou Me.— St. John xxi. 21, 22. 



" Lord, and what shall this man do ?" 

Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy fricadf 

if his love for Christ be true, 

Christ hath told thee of his end : 

This is he whom God approves, 

This is he whom Jesus loves. 

Ask not of him more than this. 

Leave it in his Saviour's breast. 

Whether, early call'd to bliss. 

He in youth shall find his rest, 

Or armed in his station wait 

Till his Lord ho at the cate : 



ST. JOHN'S DAY. 4S 

Whether in his lonely course 

(Lonely, not forlorn) he stay, 
Or with Love's supporting force 

Cheat the- toil and cheer the way : 
Leave it all in His high hand, 
Who doth hearts as streams command''. 



Gales from Heaven, if so He will 
Sweeter melodies can wake 

On the lonely mountain rill 

Than the meeting waters make. 

Who hath the Father and the Son, 

May be left, but not alone. 



Sick or healthful, slave or free, 

Wealthy, or despised and poor- 

What is that to him or thee. 

So his love to Christ endure 1 

When the shore is won at last, 

Who will count the billows past 1 



o The king's heart is in the hand of the Lord, as the rivers of water* 
He turneth it whithersoever He will. — Proverbs xxi. 1. 



46 ST. JOHN'S DAY. 

Only, since our souls w-ll shimk 
At the touch of natural grief, 

When our earthly loved ones sink. 
Lend us, Lord, thy sure relief. 

Patient hearts, their pain to see, 

And Thy grace, to follow Tiiee, 



THE HOLY INNOCENTS. 



These were redeemed from among men, being the first-fruit* onto 
God and to the Lamb.— Eev. xiv. 4. 



Say, ye celestial guards, who wait 
[n Bethlehem, round the Saviour's palace gate, 

Say, who are these on golden wings, 
That hover o'er the new-born King of kings, 

Their palms and garlands telling plain 
That they are of the glorious martyr train, 

Next to yourselves ordain'd to praise 
His Name, and brighten as on Him they gaze 1 

But where their spoils and trophies ? where 
The glorious dint a martyr's shield should bear ? 

How chance no cheek among them wears 
The deep-worn trace of penitential tears. 

But all is bright and smiling love, 
A-s if, fresh-borne from Eden's happy grove, 

They had flown here, their King to see, 
Not ever had been heirs of dark mortality! 



48 THE HOLY INNOCENTS. 

Ask, and some angel will reply, 
' These, like yourselves, were born to sin and die, 

" But ere the poison root was grown, 
" God set His seal, and mark'd them for His own. 

" Baptized in blood for Jesus' sake, 
" Now underneath the Cross their bed they make, 

" Not to be scared from that sure rest 
" By frighten'd mother's shriek, or warrior's waving 
« creat." 

Mindful of these, the first-fruits sweet 
Borne by the suffering Church her Lord to greet ; 

Bless'd Jesus ever loved to trace 
The *' innocent brightness" of an infant's face. 

He raised them in His holy arms. 
He bless'd them from the world and all its harms : 

Heirs though they were of sin and shame, 
fie bless'd them in His own and in His Father 
Name. 

Then, as each fond unconscious child 
On the everlasting Parent sweetly smiled, 

(Like infants sporting on the shore. 
That +Temble not at Oce^a's boundless roar,) 



THE HOLY INNOCT-^.NTS. 40 

Were they not present to Thy thought, 
.ill souls, that in their cradles Thou hast bought? 

But chiefly these, who died for Thee, 
That Thou might'st live for them a sadder death to 
see. 

And next to these. Thy gracious word 
'Vas as a pledge of benediction, stored 

For Christian mothers, while they moan 
Their treasured hopes, just born, baptized, and gone. 

Oh, joy for Rachel's broken heart ! 
She and her babes shall meet no more to part ; 

So dear to Christ her pious haste 
To trust ihern in His arms, for ever safe embraced. 

She dares not grudge to leave them there. 
Where to behold them was her heart's first prayer, 

She dares not grieve — but she must weep, 
^.s her pale placid martyr sinks to sleep, 

Teaching so well and silently 
tlow, at the shepherd's call, the lamb should die : 

How happier far than life the end 
Of souls that infant-like beneath their burthen bend. 
6 D 



FIRST SUNDAY APTER CHRISTMAS. 



So the sun returned ten degrees, by which degrees it was gon« 
down. — Isaiah xxxviii 8 Compare Josh. x. 13- 



'T IS true, of old th' unchanging sun 
His daily course refused to run, 

The pale moon hurrying to the west 
Paused at a mortal's call, to aid 
Th' avenging storm of war, that laid 
Seven guilty realms at once on earth's defiled breast. 

But can it be, one suppliant tear 
Should stay the ever-moving sphere ? 
A sick man's lowly breathed sigh. 
When from the world he turns awayp, 
And hides his weary eyes to pray, 
Should change your mystic dance, ye wanderers of 
the sky 1 

P Then Hezekiah turned his face toward the wall, and prayed uttt» 
tiM Lord. — Isaiah xxxviii. 2. 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 51 

We too, O Jjord, would fain command, 
As then. Thy wonder-working hand, 

And backward force the waves of Time, 
That now so swift and silent bear 
Our restless bark from year to year ; 
Help us to pause and mourn to Thee our tale of 

crime. 

Bright hopes, that erst the bosom warm'd. 
And vows, too pure to be perform'd, 

And prayers blown wide by gales of care ;— 
These, and such faint half-waking dreams, 
Like stormy lights on mountain streams, 
Wavering and broken all, athwart the conscienc<3 
glare. 

How shall we 'scape th' o'erwhelming Past ? 
Can spirits broken, joys o'ercast. 

And eyes that never more may smile : — - 
Can these th' avenging bolt delay, 
Or win us back one little day 
The bitterness of death to soften and beguile ? 

Father and lover of our souls ! 
Though darkly round Thine anger rolls, 
Thy su^shme smiles beneath the gloom. 



52 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 



^ 



Thou seek'st to warn us, not confound, 
Thy showers would pierce the harden'd ground, 
And win it to give out its brightness and perfume. 

Thou smil'st on us in wrath, and w^e. 
Even in remorse, would smile on Thee ; 

The tears that bathe our offer'd hearts, 
We would not have them stain'd and dim, 
But dropp'd from wings of seraphim, 
All glowing with the light accepted Love imparts. 

Time's waters will not ebb, nor stay. 
Power cannot change them, but Love may ; 

What cannot be. Love counts it done. 
Deep in the heart, her searching view 
Can read where Faith is fix'd and true, 
Thrcjgh sliades of setting life can see Heaven^s 

work begun. 

O Thou, who keep'st the Key of Love, 
Open Thy fount, eternal Dove, 

And overflow this heart of mine, 
Enlargmg as ii fills with Thee, 
Till in one blaze of charity 
Care and remorse are lost, like motes in light divine 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 53 

Till as each moment wafts us higher, 
By every gush of pure desire, 

And high-breath'd hope of joys above, 
By every sacred sigh we heave, 
Whole years of folly we outlive, 
fn His unerring sight, who measures Life by Love, 



5» 



THE CIRCUMCISION OP CHRIST. 



In whom also ye are circumcised with the circumcision made without 
hands. — Colossians ii. 11. 



The year begins with Thee, 
And Thou beginn'st with woe, 
To let the world of sinners see 
That blood for sin' must flow. 

Thine infant cries, O Lord, 
Thy tears upon the breast, 
Are not enough — the legal sword 
Must do its stern behest. 

Like sacrificial wine 
Pour'd on a victim's head 
Are those few precious drops of Thine 
Now first to offering led. 



(JJRCITMCISION OF CHRIST. 55 

They are the pledge and seal 
Of Christ's unswerving faith 
Given to His Sire, our souls to heal. 
Although it cost His death. 

They to His Church of old, 
To each true Jewish heart, 
In Gospel graces manifold 
Communion blest impart. 

Now of Thy love we deem 
As of an ocean vast, 
Mounting in tides against the stream 
Of ages gone and past. 

Both theirs and ours Thou art, 
As we and they are Thine ; 
Kings, Prophets, Patriarchs — all have part 
Along the sacred line. 

By blood and water too 
God's mark is set on Thee, 
That in Thee every faithful view 
Both covenants might see. 



56 CIRCUMCISION OF CHRIaa . 

O bond of union, dear 
And strong as is Thy grace ! 
Saints, parted by a thousand year^ 
May thus in heart embrace. 

Is there a mourner true, 
Who fallen on faithless days, 
Sighs for the heart-consoling view 
Of those, Heaven deign'd to praise? 

In spirit mayest thou meet 
With faithful Abraham here, 
Whom soon in Eden thou shalt greet 
A nursing Father dear. 

Would'st thou a poet be ? 
And would thy dull heart fain 
Borrow of Israel's minstrelsy 
One high enraptured strain '? 

Come herp thy soul to tune, 
Here set thy feeble chant, 
Here, if at all beneath the moon 
Is hoi 7 David's haunt. 



CIRCUMCISION OF CHRIST. 57 

Art thou a child of tears, 
Cradled in care and woe? 
And seems it hard, thy vernal years 
Few vernal joys can show ? 

And fall the sounds of mirth 
Sad on thy lonely heart. 
From all the hopes and charms of earth 
Untimely call'd to part ? 

Look here, and hold thy peace : 
The Giver of all good 
Even from the womb takes no release 
From suffering, tears, and blood. 

If thou would'st reap in love, 
First sow in holy fear : 
So life a winter's morn may provo 
To a bright endless year. 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS 



When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and theii 
tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear Ihem. I the God ol 
Israel will not forsake them. — Isaiah xli. 17. 



And wilt Thou hear the fever'd heart 

To Thee in silence cry ] 
And as th' inconstant wildfires dart 

Out of the restless eye, 
Wilt Thou forgive the wayward thought, 
By kindly woes yet half untaught 
A Saviour's right, so dearly bought. 

That hope should never die? 

Thou wilt : from many a languid prayer 
Has reach'd Thee from the wild. 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER CHKISTMAS. 59 

Since the lorn mother, wandering there, 
Cast down her fainting child ^, 

Then stole apart to weep and die, 

Nor knew an Angel form was nigh, 

To show soft waters gushing by 
And dewy shadows mild. 

Thou wilt — for thou art Israel's God, 

And thine unwearied arm 
Is ready yet with Moses' rod. 

The hidden rill to charm 
Out of the dry unfathomed deep 
Of sands, that lie in lifeless sleep. 
Save when the scorching whirlwinds heap 

Their waves in rude alarm. 

These moments of wild wrath are Thine— 

Thine to the drearier hour 
When o'er th' horizon's silent line 

Fond hopeless fancies cower. 
And on the traveller's listless way 
Rises and sets th' unchanging day, 
No cloud in heaven to slake its ray. 

On earth no sheltering bower. 

q Hagar.— See Gen. xxi. 15. 



60 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 

Thou wilt be there, and not forsake. 

To turn the bitter pool 
Into a bright and breezy lake, 

The throbbing brow to cool : 
. Till left awhile with Thee alone 
The wilful heart be fain to own 
That He, by whom our bright hours shone, 

Our darkness best may rule. 

The scent of water far away 

Upon the breeze is flung : 
The desert pelican to-day 

Securely leaves her young, 
Reproving thankless man, who fears 
To journey on a few lone years. 
Where on the sand Thy step appears 

Thy crown in sight is hung. 

Th@u, who didst sit on Jacob's well 

The weary hour of noon'. 
The languid pulses Thou canst tell, 

The nerveless spirit tune. 

' St. John iv. 6. 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER CHRIST-UAS. 61 

Thou from Whose cross in anguish burst 
The cry that own'd Thy dying thirst', 
To Thee we turn, our Last and First, 
Our Sun and soothing Moon. 

From darkness, here, and dreariness 

We ask not full repose, 
Only be Thou at hand, to bless 

Our trial hour of woes. 
Is not the pilgrim's toil o'erpaid 
By the clear rill and palmy shade? 
And see we not, up Earth's dark glade, 

The gate of Heaven unclose ? 

■ St Jahn xls. 28. 



THE EPIPHANY. 



And, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, 
till it came and stood over where the young Child was. When 
they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.— 
St. Matt. a. 9, 10. 



Star of the East, how sweet art Thou, 
Seen in life's early morning sky, 

Ere yet a cloud has dimm'd the brow. 
While yet we gaze with childish eye ; 

When father, mother, nursing friend, 
Most dearly loved, and loving best, 

First bid us from their arms ascend, 
Pointing to Thee in Thy sure resto 

Too soon the glare of earthly day 
Buries, to us, Thy brightness keen. 

And we are left to find our way 
By faith and hope in Thee unseen. 



EPIPHANY. 



63 



What matter 1 if the waymarks sure 
On every side are round us set, 

Soon overleap'd, but not obscure ? 
'T is ours to mark them or forget. 

What matter 1 if in calm old age 
Our childhood's "star again arise, 

Crowning our lonely pilgrimage 

With all that cheers a wanderer's eyes ? 

Ne'er may we lose it from our sight, 
Till all our hopes and thoughts are led 

To where it stays its lucid flight 
Over our Saviour's lowly bed. 

There, swath'd in humblest poverty. 
On Chastity's meek lap enshrined, 

With breathless reverence waiting by, 
When we our sovereign Master find. 

Will not the long-forgotten glow 
Of mingled joy and awe return, 

When stars above or flowers below 
Firs* made our infant spirits burn ? 



64 EPIPHANY, 

Look on us, Lord, and take our parts 
Even on Thy throne of purity ! 

From these our proud yet grovelling hearts 
Hide not Thy mild forgiving eye. 

Did not the Gentile Church find grace, 
Our mother dear, this favour'd day ? 

With gold- and myrrh she sought Thy face, 
Nor didst Thou turn Thy face away. 

She too*, in earlier, purer days, 

Had watched Thee gleaming faint and far 
But wandering in self-chosen ways 

She lost Thee quite. Thou lovely star. 

Yet had her Father's finger turn'd 
To Thee her first enquiring glance : 

The deeper shame within her burn'd, 
When waken'd from her wilful trance. 

Behold, her wisest throng Thy gate, 
Their richest, sweetest, purest store, 

(Yet own'd too worthless and too late,) 
They lavish on Thy cottage-floor. 

t The Patriarchal Charch. 



j:rirHANY. 65 

They give their best — O, tenfold sJiame 

On us, their fallen progeny, 
Who sacrifice the blind and lame^ — 

Who will not wake or fast with Thi^f 

tMalachii. 8. 



1 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 



They sha.I spring up as among the grass, as willows by the waleir 
courses. — Isaiah xliv. 4 . 



Lessons sweet of spring returning, 
Welcome to the thoughtful heart ! 
May I call ye sense or learning, 

Instinct pure, or Heaven-taught art T 
Be your title what it may, 
Sweet the lengthening April day, 
While with you the soul is free, 
Ranging wild o'er hill and lea. 

Sofl as Memnon's harp at morning, 

To the inward ear devout, 
Touch'd by light, witli iieavenly warning 

Your transporting chords ring out. 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 67 

Every leaf in every nook, 
Every wave in every brook, 
Chanting with a solemn voice, 
Minds us of our better choice. 

Needs no show of mountain hoary. 
Winding shore or deepening gieii, 

Where the landscape in its glory 
Teaches truth to wandering men . 

Give true hearts but earth and sky, 

And some flowers to bloom and die,-»- 

Homely scenes and simple views 

Lowly thoughts may best infuse. 

See the sofl green willow springino- 

Where the waters gently pass, 
Every way her free arms flinging 

O'er the moist and reedy grass. 
Long ere winter blasts are fled 
See her tipp'd with vernal red, 
And her kindly flower display'd 
Ere her leaf can cast a shade. 

Though the rudest hand assail her. 
Patiently she droops awhile, 



68 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

But when showers and breezes hail her, 

Wears again her willinsj smile. 
Thus I learn Contentment's power 
From the slighted willow bower, 
Ready to give thanks and live 
On the least that Heaven may give* 

If, the quiet brooklet leaving, 

Up the stony vale I wind. 
Haply half in fancy grieving 

For the shades I leave behind, 
By the dusty wayside drear, 
Nightingales with joyous cheer 
Sing, my sadness to reprove, 
Giadiier than in cultured grove. 

Where the thickest boughs are twmmg 
Of the greenest darkest tree,. 

There they plunge, the light deciiRmg— 
All may hear, but none may see. 

Fearless of the passing hoof, 

Hardly will they iieet aloof; 

So they live in modest ways, 
. Trust entire, and ceaseless praise. 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 



Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine ; and when 
Ken have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept 
the good wine until now. — St. John ii. 10. 



The heart of childhood is all mirth : 

We frolic to and fro 
As free and blithe, as if on earth 

Were no such thing as woe. 

But if indeed with reckless faith 

We trust the flattering voice, 
Which whispers, " Take thy fill ere death, 

" Indulge thee and rejoice ;" 

Too surely, every setting day, 

Some lost delight -^e mourn, 
The flowers all die along our way» 

Till we, too, die forlorn. 



70 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Such is the world's gay garish feast, 

In her first charming bowl 
Infusing all that fires the breast. 

And cheats th' unstable soul. 

And still, as loud the revel swells^ 
The fever'd pulse beats higher, 

Till the sear'd taste from foulest wells 
Is fain to slake its fire. 

Unlike the feast of heavenly love 

Spread at the Saviour's word 
For souls that hear His call, and prove 

Meet for His bridal board. 

Why should we fear, yoMth's draught of joy, 

If pure, would sparkle less ? 
Why should the cup the sooner cloy, 

Which God hath deigned to bless ? 

For, is it Hope, that thrills so keen 

Along each bounding vein. 
Still whispering glorious things unseen ? — 

Faith makes t!!e vision plain. 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 71 

The world would kill her soon : but Faith 

Her daring dreams will cherish, 
Speeding her gaze o'er time and death 

To realms where nought can perish. 

Or is it Love, the dear delight 

Of hearts that know no guile, 
That all around see all things bright 

With their own magic smile ? 

The silent joy that sinks so deep, 

Of confidence and rest. 
Lulled in a father's arms to sleep, 

Clasp'd to a mother's breast ? 

Who, but a Christian, through all life 

That blessing may prolong? 
Who, through the world's sad day of strife, 

Still chant his morning song? 

Fathers may hate us or forsake, 

God's foundlings then are we : 
Mother on child no pity take^, 

But we shall still have thee. 

Jan a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have 



72 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY, 

We may look home, and seek in vain 

A fond fraternal heart, 
But Christ hath given His promise plain 

To do a brother's part. 

Nor shall dull age, as worldlings say, 
The heavenward flame annoy ; 

The Saviour cannot pass away, 
And with Him lives our joy. 

Ever the richest tenderest glow 

Sets round th' autumnal sun — 
But there sight fails : no heart may know 

The bliss when life is done. 

Such is Thy banquet, dearest Lord ; 

O give us grace, to cast 
Our lot with Thine, to trust Thy word. 

And keep our best till last. 

>orapassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget^ yet Wii 
net forget thee. — Isaiah xlix. 15. 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 



When Jesus heard it, he marvelled, and said to them that followed 
Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no, not In 
laracl. — St. Matthew viii. 10. 



I mark'd a rainbow in the north, 
What time the wild autumnal sun 

From his dark veil at noon look'd forth, 
As glorying in his course half done, 

Flinging soft radiance far and wide 
Over the dusky heaven and bleak hill-side. 

It was a gleam to Memory dear. 
And as I walk and muse apart, 

When all seems faithless round and drear, 
I would revive it in my heart, 

And watch how light can find its way 
To regions farthest from the fount of day. 



74 THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Light flashes in the gloomiest sky, 

And Music in the dullest plain, 
For there the lark is soaring high 

Over her flat and leafless reign, 
And chanting in so blithe a tone, 
It shames the weary heart to feel itself alone. 

Brighter than rainbow in the north, 
More cheery than the matin lark, 
Is the soft gleam of Christian worth. 

Which on some holy house we mark ; 
Dear to the pastor's aching heart 
To think, where'er he looks, such gleam may have 
a part ; 

May dwell, unseen by all but Heaven, 
Like diamond blazing in the mine ; 

For ever, where such grace is given. 
It fears in open day to shine ^. 

X Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldest enter under my roof. — 

St. Luke vii. 6. 

" From the first time that the impressions of religion settled deepV 
m his mind, he used great caution to conceal it ; not only in obedience 
to the rule given by our Saviour, of fasting, praying, and giving alms 
in secret, but from a particular distrust he had of himself; for he said 
ne was afraid he should ai some time or other do some enormous 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 75 

Lest the deep stain it owns within 
Break out, and Faith be shamed by the believer's 
sin. 

In silence and afar they wait, 

To find a prayer their Lord may hear ; 
Voice of the poor and desolate, 

You best may bring it to His ear. 
Your grateful intercessions rise 
With more than royal pomp, and pierce the skies, 

Happy the soul, whose precious cause 
You in the Sovereign Presence plead — 

" This is the lover of Thy lawsT, 

" The friend of Thine in fear and need" — 

For to the poor Thy mercy lends 
That solemn style, "Thy nation and Thy friends." 

He too is blest, whose outward eye 
The graceful lines of art may trace. 



thing, which, if he were looked on as a very religious man, might 
cast a reproach on the profession of it, and give great advantages to 
impious men, to blaspheme the name of God." — Burnett's Life of 
Hale in Wordsworth's Eccl. Biog., vi. 73. 
'' He loveth our nation. — St. Luke vii. 5. 



76 THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANS^. 

While his free spirit, soaring high, 

Discerns the glorious from the base ; 
Till out of dust his magic raise ^ 
A home for prayer and love, and full harmonious 
praise, 

Where far away and high above, 
In maze on maze the tranced sight 

Strays, mindful of that heavenly love 
Which knows no end in depth or height, 

While the strong breath of Music seems 
To waft us ever on, soaring in blissful dreams. 

What though in poor and humble guise 

Thou here did'st sojourn, cottage-born? 
Yet from Thy glory in the skies 

Our earthly gold Thou dost not scorn. 
For love delights to bring her best. 
And where Love is, that offering evermore is 
blest. 

Love on the Saviour's dying head 

Her spikenard drops unblamed may pour 

« lie hnth built us a s/aagogue.— 5<. LuJce vii. 5. 



THIKD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 77 

May mount His cross, and wrap Him dead 

In spices from the golden shore a; 
Risen, may embahn His sacred name 
With all a Painter's art, and all a Minstrel's (lame 

Worthless and lost our offerings seem, 

Drops in the ocean of His praise ; 
But mercy with her genial beams 

Is ripening them to pearly blaze, 
To sparkle in His crown above, 
Who welcomes here a child's as there an angePi 
love. 

a St. John xii. 7 ; xix. 30, 

7* 



FOURTH SUXDAY AITEE EPIPHAXY. 

When they saw Him, thev besought Him that He would depart out ♦ 
of their coasts.— Sf. Matthew viii. 34. 

They know th' Alirdghn-'s power, 
Who, waken'd by the rushing midnight shower, 

Watch for the fitful breeze 
To howl and chafe amid the bendino- trees. 

Watch for the still white gleam 
To bathe the landscape in a fierv stream, 
Touching the tremulous eve with sense of ht^hf 
Too rapid and too pure for all but an^el sight. 

They know th' Ahnight\-'s love, 
Who, when the whirlwinds rock the topmost grove, 

Stand in the shade, and hear 
The tiunult ^-ith a deep exulting fear. 

How, in their fiercest sway, 
Curb'd by some power unseen, they die away, 
Like a bold steed that owtis his rider's arm, 
Proud to be check'd and soothed by that o'er-ma»- 
tering chann. 



I FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 79 

But there are storms within 
That heave the struggling heart with wilder din, 
And there is power and love 
The maniac's rushing frenzy to reprove, 
And when he takes his seat, 
Clothed and in calmness, at his Saviour's feet^, 
Is not the power as strange, the love as blest, 
As when He said, Be still, and ocean sank to rest ? 

Woe to the wayward heart. 
That gladlier turns to eye the shuddering start 

Of Passion in her might, 
Than marks the silent growth of grace and light ; — 

Pleased in the cheerless tomb 
To linger, while the morning rays illume 
Green lake, and cedar tuft, and spicy glade, 
Sliaking their dewy tresses now the storm is laid. 

The storm is laid — and now 
In His meek power He climbs the mountain's brow, 

Who bade the waves go sleep. 
And lash'd the vex'd fiends to their yawning deep. 

How on a rock they stand. 
Who watch His eye, and hold His guiding hand I 

«J St. Matt, V. 15; iv. 39. 



80 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHAIVY. 

Not hair so fix'd, amid her vassal hills, 
Rises the holy pile that Kedrop's valley fills. 

And wilt thou seek again 
Thy howling waste, thy charnel-house and chaioj 

And with the demons be, 
Rather than clasp thine own Deliverer's knee 1 

Sure 'tis no Heaven-bred awe 
That bids thee from His healing touch withdraw ; 
The world and He are struggling in thine heart, 
And in thy reckless mood thou bidd'st thy Lord 
depart. 

He, merciful and mild, 
As erst, beholding, loves His wayward child ; 

When souls of highest birth 
Waste their impassion'd might on dreams of 
earth. 
He opens Nature's book. 
And on His glorious Gospel bids them look. 
Till by such chords as rule the choirs above. 
Their lawless cries are tuned to hymns of perfect 
love. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 



BehoW the Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot save ; 
neither His ear heavy, that it cannot hear ; but your iniquities have 
separated between you and your God. — Isaiah lix. 1, 2. 



" Wake arm divine ! awake, 

*' Eye of the only Wise ! 
" Now for Thy glory's sake, 
" Saviour and God, arise, 
" And may Thine ear, that sealed seemSj 
" In pitjr mark our mournful themes !" 

Thus in her lonely hour 

Thy Church is fain to cry, 
As if Thy love and power 
Were vanish'd from her sky ; 
Yet God is there, and at His side 
He triumphs, Who for sinners died. 



82 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Ah ! 'tis the world enthralls 

The Heaven-betrothed breast : 
The traitor Sense recalls 
The soaring soul from rest. 
That bitter sigh was all for earth, 
For glories gone, and vanish'd mirth. 

Age would to youtn return. 

Farther from Heaven would be, 
To feel the wildfire burn, 
On idolizing knee 
Again to fall, and rob thy shrine 
Of hearts, the right of love divine. 

Lord of this erring flock ! 

Thou whose soft showers distil 
On ocean waste or rock, 
Free as on Hermon hill, 
Do Thou our craven spirits cheei-j 
And shame away the selfish teur. 

'Twas silent all and dead® 
Beside the barren sea, 

c See Acts viii. 26—40. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. S3 

Where Philip's steps were led, 
Led by a voice from Thee — 
He rose and went, nor ask'd Thee why, 
Nor stayed to heave one faithless sigh ; 

Upon his lonely way 

The high-born traveller came, 
Reading a mournful lay 

Of " One who bore our shame d, 
" Silent Himself, His name untold, 
** And yet His glories were of old." 

To muse what Heaven might mean 

His wondering brow he raised, 
And met an eye serene 

That on him watchful gazed. 
No hermit ere so welcome cross'd 
A child's lone path in woodland lost. 

Now wonder turns to love ; 

The scrolls of sacred lore 
No darksome mazes prove ; 

The desert tires no more : 

d Isaiah liii. 6-- ^. 



84} FIFTH SUNDAY AFTJKR EPIPHANY. 

They bathe where holy waters flow, 
Then on their way rejoicing go. 

They part to meet in Heaven ; 

But of the joy they share, 
Absolving and forgiven, 

The sweet remembrance bear. 
Yes — mark him well, ye cold and proud, 
Bewildered in a heartless crowd. 

Starting and turning pale 

At Rumour's angry din — 
No storm can now assail 
The charm he wears within. 
Rejoicing still, and doing good, 
And with the thought of God imbued. 

No glare of high estate. 

No gloom of woe or want. 
The radiance can abate 

Where Heaven delis-hts to haunt : 
Sin only hides the genial ray. 
And, round the Cross, makes niglit of day 

Then weep it from thy heart ; 
So may'st thou duly learn 



FIFTH isUNDAY AFTER EPirHANY. 85 

The intercessor's part, 

Thy prayers and tears may earn 
F&r fallen souls some healing breath, 
Ere they have died the Apostate's deatis. 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 



Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear 
what we shall be ; but we know that, wnen He shall appear, we shall 
be like Him ; for we shall see Him as He b. — 1 St. John iii. 2. 



There are, who darkling and alone, 
Would wish the weary night were gone. 
Though dawning morn should only show 
The secret of their unknown woe ; 
Who pray for sharpest throbs of pain 
To ease them of doubt's galling cjain : 
** Only disperse the cloud," they cry, 
" And if our fate be death, give light and let us 
diee." 



Unwise I deem them, Lord, unmeet 
To profit by Thy chastenings sweet, 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 87 

For Thou would'st have us linger still 
Upon the verge of good or ill, 
That on Thy guiding hand unseen 
Our undivided hearts may lean, 
And this our frail and foundering bark 
Glide in the narrow wake of Thy beloved ark, 

'Tis so in war — the champion true 
Loves victory more, when dim in view 
He sees her glories gild afar 
The dusky edge of stubborn war, 
Than if th' untrodden bloodless field 
The harvest of her laurels yield ; 
Let not my bark in calm abide, 
But win her fearless way against the chafing tide. 

'Tis so in love — the faithful heart 
From her dim vision would not part, 
When first to her fond gaze is given 
That purest spot in Fancy's heaven. 
For all the gorgeous sky beside, 
Though pledged her own and sure t' abide : 
Dearer than every past noon-day 
That twilight gleam to her, though faint and far 
away. 



88 SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

So have 1 seen some tender flower 
Prized above all the vernal bower, 
Shelter'd beneath the coolest shade, 
Embosom'd in the greenest glade, 
So frail a gem, it scarce may bear 
The playful touch of evening air ; 
When hardier grown we love it less, 
And trust it from our sight, not needing our caresa. 

And wherefore is the sweet springtide 
Worth all the changeful year beside ? 
The last-born babe, why lies its part 
Deep in the mother's inmost heart? 
But that the Lord and source of love 
Would have His weakest ever prove 
Our tenderest care — and most of all 
Our frail immortal souls. His work and Satan's 
thrall. 

So be it. Lord ; I know it best, 
Though not as yet this wayward breast 
Beat quite in answer to Thy voice ; 
Yet surely I have made my choice ; 
1 know not yet the promised bliss, 
Know not if I shall win or miss ; 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 89 

So doubting, rather let me die, 
Than close with aught beside, to last eternally. 

What is the heaven we idly dream 1 
The self-deceiver's dreary theme, 
A cloudless sun that softly shines, 
Bright maidens and unfailing vines, 
The warrior's pride, the hunter's mirth, 
Poor fragments all of this low earth : 
Such as in sleep would hardly soothe 
A soul that once had tasted of immortal Truth. 

What is the Heaven our God bestows ? 
No Prophet yet, no Angel knows ; 
Was never yet created eye 
Could see across Eternity ,* 
Not seraph's wing for ever soaring 
Can pass the flight of souls adoring, 
That nearer still and nearer grow 
To th' unapproached Lord, once made for ihorii so 
low. 

Unseen, unfelt their earthly growth. 
And self-accused of sin and sloth. 
They live and die ; their names decay. 
Their fragrance passes quite away ; 
8* 



90 SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Like violets in the freezing blast 
No vernal steam around they cast, — 
But they shall flourish from the tomb. 
The breath of God shall wake them into od'rous 
bloom. 

Then on th' incarnate Saviour's breast, 
The fount of sweetness, they shall rest, 
Their spirits every hour imbued 
More deeply with His precious blood. 
But peace — still voice and closed eye 
Suit best with hearts bej^'ond the sky, 
Hearts tiaining in their low abode, 
Daily to lose themselves in hope to find their God, 



SEPTUAGESIIA SUNDAY. 



The invisible things of Him from tlie creation of the world are 
plearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, 

Romans i. 20. 



There is a book, who runs may read, 
Which heavenly truth imparts, 

And all the lore its scholars need. 
Pure eyes and Christian hearts. 

The works of God above, below, 

Within us and around, 
Are pages in that book, to show 

How God Himself is found. 

The glorious sky embracing all 

Is like the Maker's love, 
Wherewith encompass'd, great and small 

In peace and order move. 



92 SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 

The Moon above, the Church below, 

A wondrous race they run, 
But all their radiance, all their glow. 

Each borrows of its Sun. 

The Saviour lends the light and heat 

That crowns His holy hill ; 
The saints, like stars, around His seat, 

Perform their courses still *". 

The saints above are stars in Heaven — 
What are the saints on earth ? 

Like trees they stand whom God has given?, 
Our Eden's happy birth. 

Faith is their fix'd unswerving root, 

Hope their unfading flower, 
Fair deeds of charity their fruit, 

The glory of their bower. 

The dew of Heaven is like Thy grace ^5 

It steals in silence down ; 
But where it lights, the favoured place 

By richest fruits is known. 



SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 93 

One Name above all glorious names 
With its ten thousand tongues, 

The everlasting sea proclaims, 
Echoing angelic songs. 

The raging FireS the roaring Wind, 
Thy boundless power display : 

But in the gentler breeze we find 
Thy Spirit's viewless way^. 

Two worlds are ours : 't is only Sin 

Forbids us to descry 
The mystic heaven and earth within. 

Plain as the sea and sky. 

Thou, who hast given me eyes to see 

And love this sight so fair, 
Give me a heart to find out Thee 

And read Thee everywhere. 

i Hebrews xii. 29. ^ St. John iii. 8. 



SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY 



So He drove out the man ; and He placed at the east of the garden 
of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to 
keep the way of the tree of life. — Genesis iii. 24. Compare chap. vi. 



Foe of mankind ! too bold thy race : 

Thou runn'st at such a reckless pace, 
Thine own dire work thou surely wilt confound 

'T was but one little drop of sin 

We saw this morning enter in, 
And lo ! at eventide the world is drown'd. 

See here the fruit of wandering eyes, 

Of worldly longings to be wise, 
Of Passion dwelling on forbidden sweets : 

Ye la\vless glances, freely rove ; 

Ruin below and wrath above 
Are all that now the wildering fancy meets. 



SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY. 95 

LoED, when in some deep garden glade, 

Of Thee and of myself afraid, 
From thoughts like these among the bowers I hide, 

Nearest and loudest then of all 

I seem to hear the Judge's call : — 
" Where art thou, fallen man ? come forth, and be 
" thou tried." 

Trembling before Thee as I stand, 

Where'er I gaze on either hand 
The sentence is gone forth, the ground is cursed : 

Yet mingled with the penal shower 

Some drops of balm in every bower 
Steal down like April dews, that softest fall and 
first. 

If filial and maternal lovel 
Memorial of our guilt must prove, 

If sinful babes in sorrow must be born. 
Yet, to assuage her sharpest throes, 
The faithful mother surely knows. 

This was the way Thou earnest to save the world 
forlorn, 

1 In sorrow thou shalt bring forth children. 



96 SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY. 

If blessed wedlock may not bless™ 

Without some tinge of bitterness 
To dash her cup of joy, since Eden lost, 

Chaining to earth with strong desire 

Hearts that would highest else aspire, 
And o'er the tenderer sex usurping ever most ; 

Yet by the light of Christian lore 

'Tis blind Idolatry no more. 
But a sweet help and pattern of true love. 

Showing how best the soul may cling 

To her immortal Spouse and King, 
How He should rule, and she with full desire 
approve. 

[f niggard Earth her treasures hide ", 
To all but labouring hands denied. 

Lavish of thorns and worthless weeds alone, 
The doom is half in mercy given 
To train us in our way to Heaven, 

And show our lagging souls how glory mu-st be 
won. 

•nThy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over the®. 
" Cur$ed is the ground for thy sake. 



SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY. 97 

If on the sinner's outward frame o 

God hath impress'd His mark of blame, 
And even our bodies shrink at touch of light, 

Yet mercy hath not left us bare : 

The very weeds we daily wearP • 
Are to Faith's eye a pledge of God's forgiving 
might. 

And oh ! if yet one arrow more<i. 

The sharpest of th' Almighty's store, 
Tremble upon the string — a sinner's death — 

Art Thou not by to soothe and save. 

To lay us gently in the grave, 
To close the weary eye and hush the parting 
breath ? 

Therefore in sight of man bereft 

The happy garden still was left. 
The fiery sword that guarded show'd it too, 

Turning all ways, the world to teach, 

That though as yet beyond our reach, 
Still in its place the tree of life and glory grew. 



c I was afraid, because I was naked. 

P The Lord God made coats of skins, and ciolhed them. 

"^ Thou shall surely die. 



UUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 

I do set ]My bow in the cloud, and it slmll be for a token of 
covenant between Me and the earth. — Genesis ix. 13. 

Sweet Dove ! the softest, steadiest piume 

In all the sunbright sky. 
Brightening in ever-changeful bloom 

As breezes change on high ; — 

Sweet Leaf! the pledge of peace and mirth, 

' " Long sought, and lately won," 
Bless'd increase of reviving Earth, 
When first it felt the Sun ; — 

Sweet Rainbow ! pride of summer days, 
High set at Heaven's command. 

Though into drear and dusky haze 
Thou melt on either hand ; — 



a 



QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 99 

Dear tokens of a pardoning God, 

We hail ye, one and all, 
As when our fathers walk'd abroad, 

Freed from their twelvemonths' thrall. 

How joyful from th' imprisoning ark 
On the green earth they spring ! 

Not blither, after showers, the Lark 
Mounts up with glistening wing. 

So home-bound sailors spring to shore, 

Two oceans safely past ; 
So happy souls, when life is o'er, 

Plunge in th' empyreal vast. 

What wins their first and fondest gaze 

In all the blissful field, 
And keeps it through a thousand days ? 

Love face to face reveal'd : 

Love imaged in that cordial look 

Our Lord in Eden bends 
On souls that sin and earth forsook 

In time to die His friends. 



100 QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 

And what most welcome and serene 
Dawns on the Patriarch's eye, 

In all th' emerging hills so green, 
In all the brightening sky? 

What but the gentle rainbow's gleam, 
Soothing the wearied sight. 

That cannot bear the solar beam. 
With soft undazzling light 1 

Lord, if our fathers turn'd to Thee 

With such adoring gaze, 
Wondering frail man Thy light should see 

Without Thy scorching blaze ; 

Where is our love, and where our hearts, 
We who have seen Thy Son, 

Have tried Thy Spirit's winning arts, 
And yet we are not won? 

The Son of God in radiance beam'd 
Too bright for us to scan. 

But we may face the rays that stream'd 
From the mild Son of Man. 



aUINQ,UAGESniA SUNDAY. lOi 

Thore, parted into rainbow hues, 

In sweet harmonious strife, 
We. see celestial love diffuse 

Its light o'er Jesus' life. 

God., by His bow, vouchsafes to write 

This truth in Heaven above; 
As every lovely hue is Light, 

So every grace is Love. 



ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

When thou fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face ; thE*.- 
thou appear h^i unto men to fast, but unto thy Father whicn is in 
secret. — St. Man:h^^t^ ♦!. 17. 

" Yes — dtti^ within and deeper yet 

" The rankling shaft ot' conscience hide, 
" Quick let the swelling eye forget 

" The tears that in the heart abide. 
" Calm be the voice, the aspect bold, 

" No shuddering pass o'er lip or brow, 
" For why should Innocence be told 

" The pangs that guilty spirits bow? 

" The loving eye that watches thine 

" Close as the air that wraps thee round — 

" Why in thy sorrow should it pine, 
" Since never of thy sin it found ? 

" And wherefore should the heathen see ^ 
" What chains of darkness thee enslave, 

«• Wherefore should they say aiuong the people, Where is Ihoij 
God t—Joel ii. 17. 



ASH-WEDNESDAY. 103 

** And mocking say, Lo, this is he 

" Who own'd a God that could not save ?" 

Thus oft the mourner's wayward heart 

Tempts him to hide his grief and die, 
Too feeble for Confession's smart, 

Too proud to bear a pitying eye ; 
How sweet, in that dark hour, to fall 

On bosoms waiting to receive 
Our sighs, and gently whisper all ! 

They love us — will not God forgive ? 

Else let us keep our fast within. 

Till Heaven and we are quite alone 
Then let the grief, the shame, the sin. 

Before the mercy-seat be throwr 
Between tt>e porch and altar weep. 

Unworthy of the holiest place. 
Yet hoping near the shrine to keep 

One lowly cell in sight of grace. 

Nor fear lest sympathy b/iould fail — 
Hast thou not seen, in night-hours drear, 

When racking thoughts the heart assail. 
The glimmering stars by turns appear, 



104< ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

And from th' eternal home above 
With silent news of mercy steal ? 

So angels pause on tasks of love, 

To look M^here sorrowing sinners kneel. 

Or if no angel pass that way, 

He who in secret sees, perchance 
May bid His own heart-warming ray 

Toward thee stream with kindlier glance, 
As when upon His drooping head 

His father's light was pour'd from Heaven, 
What time, unshelter'd and unfed s. 

Far in the wild His steps were driven. 

High thoughts were with Him in that hour, 

Untold, unspeakable on earth — 
And who can stay the soaring power 

Of spirits wean'd from worldly mirth, 
While far beyond the sound of praise 

With upward eye they float serene. 
And learn to bear their Saviour's blaze 

When Judgment shall undraw the screen? 

• St. Matthew iv. 1. 



FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT. 



Haste thee, escape thither; for I cannot do anything till If nu ba 
come thither. Therefore the name of tlie oily was called Xnar.— 
Genesis xix. 22. 



" Angel of wrath ! why linger in mid an, 

"While the devoted city's cry 
" Louder and louder swells? and canst thou spare 

" Thy full-charged vial standing by 1" 
Thus, with stern voice, unsparing Justice pleads ; 

He hears her not — with soften'd gaze 
His eye is following where sweet Mercy leads, 
And till she give the sign, his fury stays., 

Guided by her, along the mountain road, 
Far through the twilight of the morn, 

With hurrying footsteps from th' accursed abodo 
He sees the holy household borne : 

Angels, or more, on either hand are nigh, 
To speed them o'er the tempting plain, 

Lingering in heart, and with frail sidelong eye 

Seeking how near they may unharm'd remainc 



106 FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT. 

" Ah ! wherefore gleam those upland slopes so fair 1 
"And why, through every woodland arch. 

*' Swells yon bright vale, as Eden rich and rare, 
" Where Jordan winds his stately march ; 

" If all must be forsaken, ruin'd all, 

" If God have planted but to burn ? — 

" Surely not yet th' avenging shower will fall, 

** Though to my home for one last look I turn." 

Thus while they waver, surely long ago 

They had provoked the withering blast, 

But that the merciful Avengers know 

Their frailty well, and hold them fast. 

" Haste, for thy life, escape, nor look behind" — 
Ever in thrilling sounds like these 

They check the wandering eye, severely kind, 

Nor let the sinner lose his soul at ease. 

And when, o'erwearied with the steep ascent^ 

We for a nearer refuge crave. 
One little spot of ground in mercy lent, 

One hour of home before the grave, 
Oft in His pity o'er His children weak. 

His hand withdraws the penal fire. 



FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT. 107 

And where we fondly cling, forbears to wreak 
Full vengeance, till our hearts are wean'd entire, 

Thus, by the merits of one righteous man, 
The Church, our Zoar, shall abide. 

Till she abuse, so sore, her lengthen'd span, 
Even Mercy's self- her face must hide. 

Then, onward yet a step, thou hard-won soul ; 
Though in the Church thou know thy place, 

The mountain farther lies — there seek thy goal, 

There breathe at large, o'erpast thy dangerous racr^, 

Sweet is the smile of home ; the mutual look 
When hearts are of each other sure ; 

Sweet all the joys that crowd the household noolo 
The haunt of all affections pure ; 

Yet in the world even these abide, and V(^ 
Above the world our calling boast : 

Once gain the mountain top, and thou art free : 

Till then, who rest, presume; who turn to look-, :.;o 
lost. 



SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT. 



And when Esau heard the words of his father, he cried -with a great 
ajid exceedi«-g bitter cry, and said unto his father, Bless me, even me 
•dso, O my father. — Genesis xxvii. 34. (Compare Hehreivs:ii\\. 17. He 
found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears* 1 



" AiVD is there in God's world so drear a place 
" Where the loud bitter cr);^ is raised in vain ? 

" Where tears of penance come too late for grace, 
"As on th' uprooted flower the genial rain ?" 

'T is even so : the sovereign Lord of souls 
Stores in the dungeon of His boundless realm 

Each bolt, that o'er the sinner vainly rolls, 
With gather'd wrath the reprobate to whelm, 

t The author earnestly hopes, that nothing in these stanza.? will be 
understood to express any opinion as to the general efficacy of what is 
called "a death-bed repentance." Such queslicnis are best left in the 
merciful obscurity with which Scripture has enveloped them. Esau'? 
probation, as far as )iis birthright was concerned, M'as quite n\-er wlie*' 
he uttered the cry in the text. His despondency, thert^fitre. lo no 
DarE-Uel to any thing on this side the grave. 



SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT. lOS' 

Will the storm hear the sailor's piteous cry "", 
Taught to mistrust, too late, the tempting wave 

When all around he sees but sea and sky, 
A God in anger, a self-chosen grave 1 

Or will the thorns, that strew intemperance' bed, 
Turn with a wish to down 1 will late remorse 

Recall the shaft the murderer's hand has sped, 
Or from the guiltless bosom turn its course ] 

Then may the unbodied soul in safety fleet 

Through the dark curtains of the world above, 

Fresh from the stain of crime ; nor fear to meet 
The God, whom here she would not learn to love i 

Then is there hope for such as die unblest, 
That angel wings may waft them to the shore, 

Nor need th' unready virgin strike her breast, 
Nor wait desponding round the bridegroom's dooT, 

But where is then the stay of contrite hearts 1 
Of old they lean'd on Thy eternal word, 

But with the sinner's fear their hope departs, 
Fast link'd as Thy great Name to Thee, O Lord; 

n Compare Bp. Butler's Analogy, p. 54-64, ed. 17;^6. 
10 



110 SECOjSD SUJNDAY in LEJNT. 

That Name, by which Thy faithful oath is past, 
That we should endless be, for joy or woe : — 

And if the treasures of Thy wrath could waste, 
Thy lovers must their promised Heaven forego. 

But ask of elder days, earth's vernal hour, 
When in familiar talk God's voice was heard, 

When at the Patriarch's call the fiery shower 
Propitious o'er the turf-built shrine appear'd. 

Watch by our father Isaac's pastoral door — 
The birthright sold, the blessing lost and won, 

Tell, Heaven has wrath that can relent no more. 
The Grave, dark deeds that cannot be undone. 

We barter life for pottage ; sell true bliss 

For wealth or power, for pleasure or renown ; 

Thus, Esau-like, our Father's blessing miss. 
Then wash with fruitless tears our faded crown. 

Our faded crown, despised and flung aside. 

Shall on some brother's brow immortal bloom, 

No partial hand the blessing may misguide, 

No Haltering fancy change onr Monarch's doom 



SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT. Ill 

lIis righteous doom, that meek true-hearted Love 
The everlasting birthright should receive, 

The softest dew drop on her from above v, 

The richest green her mountain garland weave : 

Her brethren, mightiest, wisest, elde-st-born, 
Bow to her sway, and move at her behest : 

Isaac's fond blessing may not fall on scorn, 

Nor Balaam's curse on Love, which God bath 
blest. 

Genesis xxvii. 2"). 28 



THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT, 



When a strong man anried keepeth his palace, his goods are m pcctce 
Out when a stronger than he shall come upon him and overcome hira 
iio taketh from him all his armour wherein he trusted, and divideth hii 
Bpoils. — St. Luke xi. 21, 22. 



See Lucifer like lightning fall, 

Dash'd from his throne of pride 
While, answering Thy victorious call, 
The Saints his spoils divide ; 
Thi-s world of Thine, by him usurp'd Too long, 
Now opening all her stores to heal I'hy servants' 
wronn;. 



> 



So when the first-born of Thy foes 

Dead in the darkness lay. 
When Thy redeem' d at midnight rose 
And cast their bonds away. 
The orphan'd realm threw wide her gates, and told 
fnto freed Israel's lap her jewels and her gold. 



THIRD SUlyDAY IN LENT. 113 

And when their wondrous march was o'er, 

And they had won their homes, 
Where Abraham fed his flock of yore. 
Among their fathers' tombs ; — 
A land that drinks the rain of Heaven at will, 
Whose waters kiss the feet of many a vine-clad 
hill ;— 

)ft as they watch'd, at thoughtful eve, 

A gale from bowers of balm 
?weep o'er the billowy corn, and heave 
The tresses of the palm. 
Just IS the lingering Sun had touch'd with gold. 
Far oW the cedar shade, some tower of giants old; 

^t \ms a fearful joy, I ween, 

To trace the Heathen's toil, 
The litnpid wells, the orchard's green. 
Left ready for the spoil, 
The household stores untouch'd, the roses brig'nt 
Wreath'd o'er the cottage walls in garlands vf 
delight. 

And now another Canaan yields 
To thine all-conquering ark ; — 
10* n 



114« THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT. 

Fly from the " old poetic" fields ^f, 
Ye Paynmi shadows dark ! 
Immortal Greece, dear land of glorious lays, 
[.o I here the « unknown God" of thy unconscious 
praise ! 

The olive wreath, the ivied wand, 
*< The sword in myrtles drest," 
Each legend of the shadowy strand 
Now wakes a vision blest ; 
.\s little children lisp and tell of Heaven, 
So thoughts beyond their thought to those high 
Bards were given. 

And these are ours : Thy partial grace 

The tempting treasure lends : 
These relics of a guilty race 
Are forfeit to Thy fri«nds ; 
What seem'd an idol hymn, now breathes d 
Thee, 
Tuned by Faith's ear to some celestial melody. 

X Where each old poetic mountain 

Inspiration breathed around.— Gra^. 



THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT. 115 

There's not a strain to Memory dear^. 

Nor flower in classic grove, 
There's not a sweet note warbled here, 
But minds us of Thy Love. 
O Lord, our Lord, and spoiler of our foes, 
riiere is no light but Thine : with Thee all beauty 
glows. 

y See Barns'a Works, i. 293. Dr. Carrie's edilioa. 



1 



FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 



Joseph made haste ; for his howeh did yearn upon his brother ; and 
he sought where to weep ; and he entered into his cliaml^er and 
wept there. — Genesis xliii. 30. 

There stood no man with him, while Joseph made himself known 
untc his brethren. — Genesis xlv. 1. 



When Nature tries her finest touch, 

Weaving her vernal wreath, 
Mark ye, how close she veils h(ir round, 
Not to be traced by sight or sound. 
Nor soil'd by ruder breath ? 

Who ever saw the earliest rose 

First open her sweet breast? 
Or, when the summer sun goes down, 
The first soft star in evening's crown 



Light up her gleaming crest ? 



f'OUKTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 117 

Fondly we seek the dawning bloom 

On features wan and fair, — 
The gazing eye no change can trace, 
But look away a little space, 

Then turn, and, lo ! 'tis there. 



But there's a sweeter flower than e'er 

Blush'd on the rosy spray — 
A brighter star, a richer bloom. 
Than e'er did western heaven illume 
At close of summer day. 

'Tis Love, the last best gift of Heaven. 

Love, gentle, holy, pure ; 
But tenderer than a dove's soft eye. 
The searching sun, the open sky, 

She never could endure. 

Even human Love will shrink from sight 

Here in the coarse rude earth : 
How then should rash intruding glance 
Break m upon her sacred trance 
Who boasts a heavenly birlh ? 



118 FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 

So still and secret is her growth, 

Ever the truest heart, 
Where deepest strikes hei kindly root 
For hope or joy, for flower or fruit, 

Least knows its happy part, 

God only, and good angels, look 

Behind the blissful screen- 
As when, triumphant o'er His woes, 
The Son of God by moonlight rose, 

By all but Heaven unseen : 

As when the holy Maid beheld 

Her risen Son and Lord : 
Thought has not colours half so fair 
That she to paint that hour may dare, 

In silence best adored. 

The gracious Dove, that brought from Heaveji 

The earnest of our bliss. 
Of many a chosen witness telling. 
On many a happy vision dwelling, 

Sings not a note of this. 



FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT. IJ9 

So, truest image of the Christ, 

Old Israel's long-lost son, 
What time, with sweet forgiving cheer, 
He call'd his conscious brethren near. 

Would weep with them alone. 

He could not trust his melting soul 

But in his Maker's sight — 
Then why should gentle hearts and true 
Bare to the rude world's withering view 

Their treasure of delight ! 

No — let the dainty rose awhile 

Her bashful fragrance hide — 
Rend not her silken veil too soon. 
But leave her, in her own soft noon 

To flourish and abide. 



FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 



And Mos-es said, I will now turn aside, and see this great sight, why 
the bush is not burnt. — Exodus iii. 3. 



Th' historic Muse, from age to age, 
Through many a waste heart-sickening page 

Hath traced the works of man : 
But a celestial call to-day 
Stays her, like Moses, on her way, 

The works of God to scan. 

Far seen across the sandy wild, 
Where like a solitary child 

He thoughtless roam'd and free, 
One towering thor^n^ was wrapt in flame- 
Bright without blaze it went and came : 

Who would not turn and see ? 

« "Seneh:" said to be a sort of Acacia. 



FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 121 

Along the mountain ledges green 
The scatter'd sheep at will may glean 

The Desert's spicy stores : 
The while, with undivided heart, 
The shepherd talks with God apart, 

And, as he talks, adores. 

Ye too, who tend Christ's wildering flock, 
Well may ye gather round the rock 

That once was Sion's hill : 
To watch the fire upon the mount 
Still blazing, like the solar fount, 

Yet unconsuming still. ■ 

Caught from that blaze by wrath divine. 
Lost branches of the once-loved vine. 

Now wither'd, spent, and sere, 
See Israel's sons, like glowing brands, 
Tost wildly o'er a thousand lands 

For twice a thousand year. 

God will not quench nor slay them quite, 
But lifts them like a beacon light 
Th' apostate Church to scare ; 
11 



122 FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 

Or like pale ghosts that darkling roam, 
Hovering around their ancient home, 
But find no refuge there. 

Ye blessed Angels ! if of you 
There be, who love the ways to view 

Of Kings and Kingdoms here ; 
(And sure, 'tis worth an Angel's gaze, 
To see throughout the dreary maze, 

God teaching love and fear :) 

Oh, say, in all the bleak expanse, 
Is there a spot to win your glance 

So bright, so dark as this ? 
A hopeless faith, a homeless race. 
Yet seeking the most holy place. 

And owning the true bliss ! 

Salted with fire they seem», to show 
How spirits lost in endless woe 

May undecaying live. 
Oh, sickening thought ! yet hold it fast 
Long as this glittering world shall last 

Or sin at heart survive. 

a St. Mark ix. 49. 



FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 123 

And hark ! amid the "flashing fire, 
Mingling with tones of fear and ire, 

Soft Mercy'?^ undersong — 
'Tis Abraham's God who speaks so loud, 
His people's cries have pierced the cloud, 

He sees. He sees their wrong ^ ; 

He is come down to break their chain ; 
Though never more on Sion's fane 

His visible ensign wave ; 
'Tis Sion, wheresoe'er they dwell, 
Wh.0, with His own true Israel, 

Shall own Him strong to save. 

He shall redeem them one by one, 
Where'er the world-encircling sun 

Shall see them meekly kneel : 
All that He asks on Israel's part, 
Is only, that the captive heart 

Its woe and burthen feel. 

Gentiles ! with fix'd yet awful eye 
Turn ye this page of mystery, 

b Exod. iii. 7, 8, 



124 FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 

Nor slight the warning sound : 
■ Put off thy shoes from off thy feet — 
" The place where man his God shall meet 
* Be sure is holy grouiui." 



PALI SUNDAY. 



And He answered and said unto them, I tell you that, if thes 
should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.— 
St Luke xix., 40. 



Ye whose hearts are beating high 
With the pulse of Poesy, 
Heirs of more than royal race, 
Framed by Heaven's peculiar grace, 
God's own work to do on earth, 

(If the word be not too bold,) 
Giving virtue a new birth, 

And a life that ne'er grows old- — 

Sovereign masters of our hearts ! 

Know ye who hath set your parts ? 

He who gave you breath to sing, 

By whose strength ye sweep the strmg, 
11* 



126 PALM SUNDAY, 

He hath chosen you, to lead 
His Hosannas here below ; — 

Mount, and claim your glorious meed ; 
Linger not with sin and woe. 

But if ye should hold your peace, 
Deem not that the song would cease — 
Angels round His glory-throne, 
Stars, His guiding hand that own, 
Flowers, that grow beneath our feet, 

Stones, in earth's dark womb that rest, 
High and low in choir shall meet, 

Ere His name shall be unblest. 

Lord, by every minstrel tongue, 
Be Thy praise so duly sung. 
That Thine angels' harps may ne'er 
Fail to find fit echoing here ; 
We the while, of meaner birth, 

Who in that divinest spell 
Dare not hope to join on earth. 

Give us grace to listen well. 

But should thankless silence seal 
Lips, that might half Heaven reveal, 



PALM SUNDAY. 127 

Should bards in idol-hymns profane 
The sacred soul-enthralling strain, 
(As in this bad world below 

Noblest things find vilest using,) 
Then, Thy power and mercy show, 

In vile things noble breath infusing ; 

Then waken into sound divine 
The very pavement of Thy shrine, 
Till we, like Heaven's star-sprinkled floor, 
Faintly give back what we adore ; 
Childlike though the voices be. 

And untunable the parts. 
Thou wilt own the minstrelsy 

If it flow from childlike hearts. 



MONDAY BEFORE EASTER. 



Doubtless Thou art our Father, though Abraham be ignorant of O&i 
and Israel acknowledge us not. — Isaiah Ixiii. 16. 



" Father to me Thou art and Mother dear, 

" And Brother too, kind Husband of my heart" — 

So speaks Andromache c in boding fear. 
Ere from her last embrace her hero part — 

So evermore, by Faith's undying glow, 

We own the Crucified in weal or woe. 

Strange to our ears the church-bells of our home, 
The fragrance of our old paternal fields 

May be forgotten ; and the time may come 

When the babe's kiss no sense of pleasure yields 

c Iliad, vi. 429. 



MOIMDAY BEFORE EASTEI2- 129 

Even to the doting mother : but thine own 
Thou never canst forget, nor leave alone. 

There are vi^ho sigh that no fond heart is theirs, 
None loves them best — O vain and selfish sigh ! 

Out of the bosom of His love He spares — 
The Father spares the Son, for thee to die : 

For thee He died — for thee He lives again : 

O'er thee He watches in His boundless reign. 

Thou art as much His care, as if beside 

Nor man nor angel lived in heaven or earth : 

Tlius sunbeams pour alike their glorious tide 
To light up worlds, or wake an insect's mirth : 

They shine and shine with unexhausted store — 

Thou art thy Saviour's darling — seek no more. 

On thee and thine, thy warfare and thine cii>i 
Kven in His hour of agony He thought, 

When, ere the final pang His soul should rend, 
The ransom'd spirits one by one were brought 

To His mind's eye — two silent nights and days<^ 

In calmness for His far-seen hour He stays. 

d In Passion week, from Tuesday evening to Thursday evening: 
tinriag which time Scripture seems to be nearly silent concerning ouf 
■Sav'iour's proceedings. 

I 



130 MONDAY BEFORE EASTEIl. 

Ye vaulted cells, where martyr'd seers of old 
Far in the rocky walls of Sion sleep, 

Green terraces and arched fountains cold. 

Where lies the cypress shade so still and deep, 

Dear sacred haunts of glory and of woe, 

Help us one hour to trace His musings high and law. 

One heart-ennobling hour ! It may not be : 

Th' unearthly thoughts have pass'd from eartlj 
away, 

And fast as evening sunbeams from the sea 
Thy footsteps all in Sion's deep decay 

Were blotted from the holy ground : yet dear 

Is every stone of hers ; for Thou wast surely here. 

Tliere is a spot within this sacred dale 

That felt Thee kneeling — touch'd Thy prostrate 
brow: 
One Angel knows it. O might prayer avail 

To win that knowledge ; sure each holy vow 
Less quickly from th' unstable soul would fade, 
Ofier'd where Christ in agony was laid. 

Might tear of ours once mingle with the blood 
That from His aching brow by moonlight fell, 



MONDAY BEFORE EASTER. 131 

Over the mournful joy our thoughts would brood, 

Till they had framed within a guardian spell 
To chase repining fancies, as they rise, 
Like birds of evil wing, to mar our sacrifice 

So dreams the heart self-flattering, fondly dreams ;-— 
Else wherefore, when the bitter waves o'erflow, 

Miss we the light, Gethsemane, that streams 
From Thy dear name, where in his page of woe 

It shines, a pale kind star in winter's sky ? 

Who vainly reads it there, in vain had seen Him die. 



TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 



They gave Him to drink wine mingled with myrrh ; but He received 
it not.— S^ Mark xv. 23. 



Fill high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour 
" The dews oblivious : for the Cross is sharp, 
" The Cross is sharp, and He 
" Is tenderer than a lamb. 

" He wept by Lazarus' grave — how will B e bear 
" This bed of anguish 1 and His pale weak form 

" Is worn with many a watch 

" Of sorrow and unrest. 

" His sweat last night was as great drops of blood 
And the sad burthen press'd Him so to earth, 
" The very torturers paused 
" To help Him on His way. 



TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 133 

** Fill high the bowl, benumb His aching sense 
" With medicined sleep." — O awful in Thy woe ! 

The parching thirst of death 

Is on Thee, and Thou triest 

The slumb'rous potion bland, and wilt not drink : 
Not sullen, nor in scorn, like haughty man 

With suicidal hand 

Putting his solace by : 

But as at first Thine all -pervading look 
Saw from Thy Father's bosom to th' abyss, 

Measuring in calm presage 

The infirite descent ; 

So to :^e end, though now of mortal pangs 
Made lieir, and emptied of Thy glory awhile, 

With unaverted eye 

Thou meetest all the storm. 

Thou wilt feel all, that Thou may'st pity all ; 
And rather wouldst Thou wrestle with strong paii«. 

Than overcloud Thy soul. 

So clear in agony, 
12 



i34t TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

Or lose one glimpse of Heaven before the time, 
O most entire and perfect sacrifice, 

Renew'd in every pulse 

That on the tedious Cross 

Told the long hours of death, as, one by one. 
The life-strings of that tender heart gave way ; 

Even sinners, taught by Thee, 

Look Sorrow in the face. 

And bid her freely welcome, imbeguiled 
By false kind solaces and spells of earth : — 

And yet not all unsoothed ; 

For when was Joy so dear, 

As the deep calm that breathed, " Father, forgive^'* 
Or " Be with Me in Paradise to-day ?" 

And, though the strife be sore, 

Yet in His parting breath 

lyove masters Agony ; the soul that seem'd 
Porsaken, feels her present God again,, 

And m her Father's arms 

Contented dies away. 



WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTEK. 



Saying, Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from me 
nevertheless not my will, but Thine, be done. — St. Luke xxii. 42. 



Lord my God, do Thou Thy lioly will — 

I will lie still — 

1 will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm, 

And break the charm, 
Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast. 
In perfect rest. 

Wild Fancy, peace ! thou must not me beguile 

With thy false smile : 
I know thy flatteries and *hy cheating ways; 

Be silent, Praise, 
Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all 

That hear thy call. 



136 WFDNESDAY BEFORE EASTES. 

CojTje, Self-devolion, high and pure, 
Thoughts that in thankfulness endure, 
Though dearest hopes are faithless found, 
And dearest hearts are hursting round. 
Come, Resignation, spirit meek, 
And let me kiss thy placid cheek. 
And read in thy pale eye serene 
Their blessing, who by faith can wean 
Their hearts from sense, and learn to lovft 
God only, and the joys above. 

They say, who know the life divine, 

And upward gaze with eagle eyne. 

That by each golden crown on high®, 

Rich with celestial jewelry, 

Which for our Lord's redeem'd is set, 

There hangs a radiant coronet. 

All gemm'd with pure and living light, ^ 

Too dazzlins; for a sinner's sig-ht, 

Prepared for virgin souls, and them 

Who seek the martyr's diadem. 

* " that little coronet or special re-ward which God hatn pre- 
pared (extraordinary and besides the great Crown of all faithful so'jls) 
'or those ' \vho have not defiled themselves with won lt tmt follow 
the ^virgin) Lamb for ever.' " — Bp. Taylor, Holy Livins;, c xi. sect. 3 



WEDNESDAY EEFORE EASTER. 1 37 

Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire, 

Must win their way through blood and fire. 

The writhings of a wounded heart 

Are fiercer than a foeman's dart. 

Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining, 

In Desolation unrepining, 

Without a hope on earth to find 

A mirror in an answering mind, 

Meek souls there are, who little dream 

Their daily strife an angel's theme, 

Or that the rod they take so calm 

Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm. 

And there are souls that seem to dwell 
Above this earth — so rich a spell 
Floats round their steps, where'er they movei, 
From hopes fulfill'd and mutual love. 
Such, if on high their thoughts are set, 
Nor in the stream the source forget, 
f prompt to quit the bliss they know, 
following the Lamb where'er He go, 
By purest pleasures unbeguiled 
To idolize or wife or child : 
Such wedded souls our God shall own 
For faultless virgins round His throne. 
12* 



138 WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTJFE. 

Thus everywhere we find our suffermg God» 

And where He trod 
May set our steps : the Cross on Calvary 

Uphfted high 
Beams on the martyr hosts, a ueacon light 

In open fight. 



To the still wrestlings of the lonely heart 

He doth impart 
The virtue of His midnight agony, 

When none was nigh. 
Save God and one good angel, to assuage 

The tempest's rage. 

Mortal ! if life smile on thee, and thou find 

All to thy mind. 
Think, who did once from Heaven to Hell descend 

Thee to befriend : 
So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call, 

Thy best, thine all. 

»« O Father ! not My will but Thine be done" — 
So spake the Son. 



WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 139 

Be this our charm, mellowing Earth's ruder noise 

Of griefs and joys ; 
That we may cling for ever to Thy breasi 

In perfect rest 1 



THURSDAY BEFORE EASTER, 



At the beginning of thy supplication the commandment came forte, 
and I am come to shew thee; for thou art greatly beloved; therefore 
understand the matter, and consider the vision. — Daniel ix. 23. 



" HOLY mountain of my God, 

" How do thy towers in ruin lie, 
" How art thou riven and strewn abroad, 

" Under the rude and wasteful sky !" 
'Twas thus upon his fasting-day 
The " Man ol Loves" was fain to pray, 
His lattice open^ toward his darling west, 
Mourning the ruin'd home he still must love the best. 

Oh ! for a love like Daniel's now, 

To wing to Heaven but one strong prayer 

Paniel v\. .10. 



THURSDAY BEFOKE EASTEE. HI 

For God's new Israel, sunk as low. 

Yet flourishing to sight as fair, 
As Sion, in her height of pride, 
With queens for handmaids at her side, 
With kings her nursing-fathers, throned high, 
And compass'd with the world's too tempting 
Mazonry, 

'Tis true, nor wi.iter stays Thy growth, 

Nor torrid summers sickly smile; 
The flashing billows of the south 

Break not upon so lone an isle, 
But Thou, rich vine, art grafted there, 
The fruit of death or life to bear, 
Yielding a surer witness every day, 
To Thine Almighty Author and His steadfast sway. 

Oh ! grief to think, that grapes of gall 

Should cluster round Thine healthiest shoot ! 
God's herald prove a heartless thrall, 

Who, if he dared, would fain be mute ! 
Even such is this bad world we see. 
Which sslf-condemn'd in owning Thee, 
Yet dares not open farewell of Thee take, 
For very pride, and her high-boasted Reason's sake 



14'2 THURSDAY BEFOKE EASTER. 

What do we then 1 if far and wide 

Men kneel to Christ, the pure and meek, 
Yet rage with passion, swell with pride, 

Have we not still our faith to seek? 
Nay — but in steadfast humbleness 
Kneel on to Him who loves to bless 
The prayer that waits for Him ! and trembling 
strive 
To keep the lingering flame in thine own bresjjK 
alive. 

Dark frown'd the future even on him;. 

The loving and beloved Seer, 
What time he saw, through shadows dim, 

The boundary of th' eternal year ; 
He only of the sons of men 
Named to be heir of glory then^. 
Else it had bruised too sore his tender heart 
To see God's ransom'd world in wrath and flame 
depart. 

Then look no more : or closer watch 

Thy course in Earth's bewildering ways, 

Daniel xii. 13. See Bp. Kenn's Sermon on the cliamcter of DaniaL 



THURSDAY BEFORE EASTER. 143 

For every glimpse thine eye can catch 

Of what shall be in those dread days; 
So when th' Archangel's word is spoken, 
And Death's deep trance for ever broken, 
In mercy thou may'st feel the heavenly hand, 
And in thy lot unharm'd before thy Saviour stand." 



hThou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at tte end of the days.— 
Danid sii. 13. 



GOOD PRIDAY, 

Be is despised and rejected of men.— ^Isaiah liii, % 

Is it not strange, the darkest hour 

That ever dawn'd on sinful earth 
Should louch the heart with softer power 
For comfort, than an angel's mirth 1 
That to the Cross the mourner's eye should turn 
Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn 1 

Sooner than where the Easter sun 

Shines glorious on yon open grave, 
And to and fro the tidings run, 

" Who died to heal, is risen to save ?" 
Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends 
The very Comforter in light and love descends I 

Yet so it is : for duly there 

The bitter herbs of earth are set, 



(iOOD *"KiUAY. 145 

Till tempe/d by ih^ Saviour's prayer, 
An<l with tiio Savioax's life-blood wet, 
The^^ turn to sweet.'aesi, asid drop Loly balm, 
Soft as imprison'd martyr''s deathb<:^d calm. 

All turn to sweet — but most of ai! 
That bitterest to the lip of pride, 
When hopes presumptuous fade and fall, 
Or Friendship scorns us, duly tnc-i, 
Or Love the flower that closes up for fejir 
When rude and selfish spirits breathe t^so near. 

Then like a long-forgotten strain 

Comes sweeping o'er the heart foxlorn 
What sunshine hours had taught iti vain 
Of Iesus suffering shame and scorn, 
A.S in all lowly hearts He suffers still. 
While wc triumphant ride and have the world at 
will. 

His pierced hands in vain would hide 
His face from rude reproachful gaze, 

His ears are open to abide 

The wildo-^t ftorm the tongue can raise, 
13 K 



146 GOOD FRIDAY. 

He wno with one rough word', some early day, 
I'neir idol world and them shall sweep for aye away. 

E^ut we by Fancy may assuage 

The festering sore by Fancy made, 
Down in some lonely hermitage 
Like wounded pilgrims safely laid, 
Where gentlest breezes whisper souls distress'd, 
That Love yet lives, and Patience shall find rest 

() ! shame beyond the bitterest thought 

That evil spirit ever framed, 
That sinners know what Jesus wrought, 
Yet feel their haughty hearts untamed — 
That souls in refuge, holding by the Cross, 
Should wince and fret at this world's little loss. 

Lord of my heart, by Thy last cry, 

Le* not Thy blood on earth be spent — - 
Lo, at Thy feet I fainting lie. 

Mine eyes upon Thy wounds are bent, 
' ' [)on Thy streaming wounds my weary eyes 
Wait like the parched earth on April skies, 

• Wisdom of Solomon xii. 9. 



GOOD FRIDAY. 147 

Wash me, and dry these bitter tears, 

O let my heart no further roam, 
'Tis Thine by vows, and hopes, and fears. 
Long since — O call Thy wanderer home ; 
To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side, 
Where only broken hearts their sin and shame may 
hide. 



EASTER EYE, 

As for Thee also, by the blood of Thy covenant I have sent fortb 
Thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no water. — Zechariah ix. 11. 

At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid 
Deep in Thy darksome bed ; 

All still and cold beneath yon dreary stone 
Thy sacred form is gone ; 

Around those lips where power and mercy hung 
The dews of death have clung ; 

The dull earth o'er Thee, and Thy foes around, 
Thou sleep'st a silent corse, in funeral fetters wound, 

Sleep'st Thou indeed 1 or is Thy spirit fled, 

At large among the dead ? 
Whether in Eden bowers Thy welcome voice 

Wake Abraham to rejoice. 
Or in some drearier scene Thine eye controls 

The thronsfino; band of souls : 
That, as Thy blood won earth. Thine agony 
Might set the shadov/y realm from sin and sorrow 
free. 



EASTER EVE. 149 

Where'er Thou roam'st, one happy soul, we know 
« 
Seen at Thy side in woe'^, 

Waits on Thy triumph — even as all the blest 
With Him and Thee shall rest. 

Each on his cross, by Thee we hang awhile, 
Watching Thy patient smile. 

Till we have learn'd to say, " 'Tis justly done 
* Only in glory. Lord, Thy sinful servant own." 

Soon wilt Thou take us to Thy tranquil bower 

To rest one little hour, 
Till Thine elect are number'd, and the grave 

Call Thee to come and save : 
Then on Thy bosom borne shall we descend, 

Again with earth to blend, 
Earth all refined with bright supernal fires. 
Tinctured with holy blood, and wing'd with pure 
desires. 

Meanwhile with every son and saint of Thin© 

Along the glorious line, 
Sitting by turns beneath Thy sacred feet 

We'll hold communion sweei, 

^ St Lube -sxiii. 4S 
13* 



150 EASTEE EVE. 

Know them by look and voice, and thank them all 

For helping us in thrall. 
For words of hope, and bright examples given ' 
To show through moonless skies that there is light 
in Heaven. 



O come that day, when in this restless heart 
Ea,rth shall resign her part, 

When in the grave with Thee my limbs shall rest, 
My soul with Thee be blest ! 

But stay, presumptuous — Christ with thee abidcis 
In the rock's dreary sides ; 

He from the stone will wring celestial dew 
^ but the prisoner's heart be faithful found and true 



When tears are spent, and thou art lett alone 
With gnosts of blessings gone, 

Think thou art taken from the cross, and laid 
In Jest; fi' burial shade ; 

Take Moses' rod, the rod of prayer, and call 
Out of the rocky wall 

The fount of holy blood ; and lift on high 
■f hy grovelling sou' that feels so desolate and dv/ 



EASTER EVE. 151 

jprisoner of Hope thou art' — look up and sing 

In hope of promised spring. 
As in the pit his father's darling laym 

Beside the desert way, ' 

And knew not how, but knew his God wouIo 
save 
Even from that living grave. 
So, buried with our Lord, we '11 close our eyes 
To the decaying world, till angels bid us rise. 

1 lurn you to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope. — Zech. ix. 12. 
«» They took him, and cast him into a pit ; and the pit vms empty; 
fiere was no tvater in it. — Genesis xxxvii< Si. 



EASTER DAY. 



And as tney were afraid, and bowed down their faces to tlie earth, 
they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead ? He ia 
not here, but is risen. — St. Luke xxiv. 5, 6. 



Oh ! day of days ! shall hearts set free 
No " minstrel rapture" find for thee 1 
Thou art the Sun of other days, 
They shine by giving back thy rays : 

Enthroned in thy sovereign sphere 
Thou shedd'st thy light on all the yea? 
Sundays by thee more glorious break, 
An Easter Day in every week : 

An } week days, following in their trails 
The fulness of thy blessing gain, 
Till all, both resting and employ, 
Be one Lord's day of holy joy. 



EASTER DAY. 153 

Then wake, my soul, to high desires, 
And earlier light thine altar fires : 
The World some hours is on her way, 
Nor thinks on thee, thou blessed day : 

Or, if she think, it is in scorn : 
The vernal light of Easter morn 
To her dark gaze no brighter seems 
Than Reason's or the Law's pale beams. 

" Where is your Lord ?" she scornful asks % 
" Where is his hire ? we know his tasks ; 
" Sons of a King ye boast to be ; 
" Let us your crowns and treasures see " 

We in the words of Truth reply, 
(An angel brought them from the sky,j) 
" Our crown, our treasure is not here, 
" 'Tis stored above the highest sphere: 

" Methinks your wisdom guides amiss, 
** To seek on earth a Christian's bliss ; 
" We watch not now the lifeless stone s 
'' Our only Lord is risen and gone,'* 



154 EASTER DAY. 

Yet even the lifeless stone is dear 
For thoughts of Him who late lay here ; 
And the base world, now Christ hath died, 
"Snnobled is and glorified. 

N'o more a charnel-house, to fence 
The relics of lost innocence, 
A vf.ult of ruin and decay ; — 
Th' imprisoning stone is roU'd away 

'Tis now a cell where angels use 
To come and go with heavenly news, 
And in the ears of mourners say, 
" Come, see the place where Jesus lay :" 

'Tis now a fane, where love can find 
Christ every where embalm'd and shrined : 
Aye gathering up memorials sweet. 
Where'er she sets her duteous feet. 

Oh ! joy to Mary first allow'd, 
When roused from weeping o'er His shroud 
By His own calm, soul-soothing tone, 
Breathing her name, as still His own ! 



KASTEE DAY. t55 

Joy to the faithful Three renew'd, 
As Their glad errand They pursued ! 
Happy, who so Christ's word convey, 
That He may meet them on their way I 

So is it still : to holy tears, 
In lonely hours, Christ risen appears ; 
In social hours, who Christ would see 
Must turn all tasks to Charity, 



MONDAY IN EASTER WEEK. 



Of a truth 1 perceive that God is no respecter of persons : bat n 
every nation lie that feareth Him, and worketh righteousness, is ao 
jepted with Him. — Acts x. 34, 35. 



Go up and watch the new-born rill 
Just trickling from its mossy bed, 
Streaking the heath-clad hill 
With a bright emerald thread. 

Canst thou her bold career foretell, 
What rocks she shall o'erleap or rend 
How far in Ocean's swell, 
Her freshening billows send 1 

Perchance that little brook shall flow 
The bulwark of some mighty realm 
Bear navies to and fro 

With monarchs at their helm. 



MONDAY IN EASTER WEEK. 15 ^ 

Or canst thou guess, how far away 
Some sister nymph, beside her urn 
Reclining night and day, 

'Mid reeds and mountain fern, 

Nurses her store, with thine to blend 
When many a moor and glen are past, 
Then in the wide sea end 
Their spotless lives at last 1 

Even so, the course of prayer who knows? 
It springs in silence where it will, 
Springs out of sight, and flows 
At first a lonely rill : 

But streams shall meet it by and by 
From thousand sympathetic hearts, 
Together swelling high 

Their chant of many parts. 

Unheard by all but angel ears 

- The good Cornelius knelt alone, 

Nor dream'd his prayers and tears 

Would help p world nndone. 
U 



158 MONDAY IN EASTER WEEK. 

The while upon his terraced roof 
The loved Apostle to his Lord 
In silent thought aloof 

For Heavenly vision soar'd. 

Far o'er the glowing western mam 
His wistful brow was iipward raised, 
Where, like an angel's train, 
The burnish'd water blazed. 

The saint beside the ocean pray'd, 
The soldier in his chosen bower, 
Where all his eye survey'd 
Seem'd sacred in that hour. 

To each unknown his brother's prayer. 
Yet brethren true in dearest love 
Were they — and now they share 
Fraternal joys above. 

There daily through Christ's open gate 

They see the Gentile spirits press. 

Brightening their high estate 

With dearer happiness. 



MOrfDAY IIS EASTER WEEK. 159 

What civic wreath for comrades saved 
Shone ever with such deathless gleam, 
Or when did perils braved 
So sweet to veterans seem ) 



TUESDAY IN EASTER WEEK, 



And. they departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great 
joyi and did run to bring His difciples word.— Si. Matthew xxviii. 8. 



TO THE SNOW-DROP. 

Thou first-born of the year's delight, 

Pride of the dewy glade, 
In vernal green and virgin white, 

Thy vestal robes, array'd : 

'Tis not because thy drooping form 

Sinks graceful on its nest. 
When chilly shades from gathering storit. 

Affright thy tender breast ; 

Nor for yon river islet wild 

Beneath the willow spray, 
Where, like the ringlets of a chi 

Thou weav'st thy circle gay | 



TUESDAY IN EASTER WEEK. ' 161 

'Tis not for these I love thee dear — 

Thy shy averted smiles 
To Fancy bode a joyous year, 

One of Life's fairy isles. 

They twinkle to the wintry moon, 

A.nd cheer th' ungenial day, 
And tell us, all will glisten soon 

As green and bright as they. 

Is there a heart, that loves the spring. 

Their witness can refuse ? 
Yet mortals doubt when angels bring 

From Heaven their Easter news : 

When holy maids and matrons speak 

Of Christ's forsaken bed. 
And voices, that forbid to seek 

The living 'mid the dead, 

A.nd when they say, " Turn, wandering heart, 

" Thy Lord is risen indeed, 
'' Let Pleasure go, put Care apart, 

" And to His presence speed ;" 



162 TUESDAY IN TASTER WEEK. 

We smile in scorn : and yet we know 
They early sought the tomb, 

7\heir hearts, that now so freshly glow, 
Lost in desponding gloom. 

They who have sought, nor hope to find 
Wear not so bright a glance : 

They who have won their earthly mind. 
Less reverently advance. 

But where, in gentle spirits, fear 

And joy so duly meet. 
These sure have seen the angels near, 

And kiss'd the Saviour's feet. 

Nor let the Pastor's thankful eye 
Their faltering tale disdain, 

As on their lowly couch they lie, 
Prisoners of want and pain. 

O guide us, when our faithless hearts 
From Thee would start aloof, 

Where Patience her sweet skUl impaits 
Beneath wme cottage mof : 



TU2SSDAY IN EASTER TVEElt, 163 

Revive our dying fires, to burn 

High as her anthems soar, 
And of our scholars let us leara 

Our own forgotten lore. 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 



^'«emeth it but a small thing unto you, that the God of Israel hath 
waraled you from the congregation of Israel, to bring you near to 
if nself ? — Numbers xvi. 9. 



First father of the holy seed, 
If yet invoked in hour of need, 

Thou count me for Thine own, 
Not quite an outcast if I prove, 
(Thou joy'st in miracles of love,) 

Hear, from Tliy mercy-throne ! 

Upon Thine altar's horn of gold 
Help me to lay my trembling hold. 

Though stain'd with Christian gore ;- 
The blood of souls by Thee redeem'd 
But, while I roved or idly dream'd, 

Lost to be found no more. 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. I(>f» 

For oft, when summer leaves were bright. 
And every flower was bathed in light, 

In sunshine moments past, 
My wilful heart would burst away 
From where the holy shadow lay, 

Where Heaven my lot had cast. 

I thought it scorn with Thee to dwell, 
A Hermit in a silent cell, 

While, gaily sweeping by, 
Wild Fancy blew his bugle strain, 
And marshall'd all his gallant train 

In the world's wondering eye. 

I would have join'd him — but as oft 
Thy whisper'd warnings, kind and soft, 

My better soul confess'd. 
" My servant, let the world alone — 
" Safe on the steps of Jesus' throne 

" Be tranquil and be blest. 

" Seems it to thee a niggard hand 
* That nearest Heaven has bade thee stand, 
" The ark to touch and bear, 



166 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

*With incense of pure heart's desire 
" Tn heap the censer's sacred fire, 
" The snow-white Ephod wear 1" 

Why should we crave the worldling's wreath. 
On whom the Saviour deign'd to breathe, 

To whom his keys were given, 
Who lead the choir where angels meet, 
With angels' food our brethren greet, 

And pour the drink of Heaven 1 

When sorrow all our heart would ask 
We need not shun our daily task, 

And hide ourselves for calm ; 
The heibs we seek to heal our woe 
Familiar by our pathway grow, 

Our common air is balm. 

Around each pure domestic shrine 
Bright flowers of Eden bloom and twine, 

Our hearths are altars all ; 
The prayers of hungry souls and poor, 
Like armed angels at the door, 

Our unseen foes appal. 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 167 

Alms all around and hymns within — 
What evil eye can entrance win 

Where guards like these abound ? 
If chance some heedless heart should roam, 
Sure, thought of these will lure it home 

Ere lost in Folly's round. 

O joys, that sweetest in decay. 
Fall not, like wither'd leaves, away, 

But with the silent breath 
Of violets drooping one by one, 
Soon as their fragrant task is done^ 

Are wafted high in death ! 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER, 



He hath said, -which heard the words of God, and knew the know 
edge of the Most High, which sa-\v the vision of the Almighty falling 
into a trance, but having His eyes open : I shall see Him, but not now : 
I shall behold Him, but not nigh : there shall come a Star out of Jacob, 
»nd a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel, and shall smite the corners of 
Moab, and destroy all the children of Sheth. — Numbers xxiv. 16, 17 



O FOK a sculptor's hand, 

That thou might'st take thy stand, 
Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze, 

Thy tranced yet open gaze 

Fix'd on the desert haze, 
As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees. 

In outline dim and vast 
Their fearful shadows cast 

The giant forms of empires on their way 

To ruin : one by one 

They tower and they are gone, 
Vet in the Prophet'^^. soul the dreams of avarice sTay. 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTEE. 159 

No sun or star so bright 

In all the world of light 
That they should draw to Heaven his downward 
eye : 

He hears th' Almighty's word, 

He sees the angel's sword, 
Yet low upon the earth his heart and treasure lie, 

Lo ! from yon argent field. 

To him and us reveal'd, 
One gentle Star glides down, on earth to dwell 

Chain'd as they are below 

Our eyes may see it glow. 
And as it mounts again, may track its brightness well. 

To him it glared afar, 

A token of wild war, 
The banner of his Lord's victorious wrath : 

But close to us it gleams. 

Its soothing lustre streams 
Around our home's green walls, and on our p''iuicb 
way path. 

We in the tents abide 
Which He at distance eyed 

15 



170 SECOND SUND^Sr AFTER EASTER 

Like goodly cedars by the waters spread, 

While seven red altar-fires 

Rose up in wavy spires, 
Where on the mount . he watch'd his sorceries dark 
and dread. 

He watch'd till morning's ray 

On lake and meadow lay, 
And willow-shaded streams, that silent sweep 

Around the banner'd lines, 

Where by their several signs 
The desert-wearied tribes in sight of Canaan sleep. 

He watch'd till knowledge came 

Upon his soul like flame, 
Not of those magic fires at random caught : 

But true Prophetic light 

Flash'd o'er him, high and bright, 
Flash'd once, and died away, and left his darken'd 
thought. 

And can he choose but fear, 
Who feels his God so near. 
That when he fain would o.-irse, his powerlesB 
tongue 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. I7l 

In blessing only moves? — 
Alas ! the world he loves 
Too close around his heart her tangling veil hath 
flung. 

Sceptre and Star divine, 

Who in Thine inmost shrine 
Elast made us worshippers, O claim Thine own : 

More than Thy seers we know — 

O teach our love to grow 
Up to Thy heavenly light, and reap what Thou ha^i 
sown. 



THTRD SUNDAY AFTER EASTER 



A Avoman when she is in travail^ /,ath sorrow, becaase her hoar it 
come: but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she rememberetli 
no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world. 

St. John xvi. '21. 



Well may I guess and feel 
Why Autumn should be sad , 
But vernal airs should sorrow heal. 
Spring should be gay and glad : 
Yet as along this violet bank I rove, 

The languid sweetness seems to choke my 
breath, 
I sit me down beside the hazel grove, 
And sigh, and half could wish my weariness were 
death. 

Like a bright veering cloud 
Gray blossoms twmkle there, 
Warbles around a busy crowd 
<')f larks in purest air. 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EASTEK. l73 

Shame on the heart that dreams of blessings gone 
Or wakes the spectral forms of woe and crime. 
When nature sings of joy and hope alone, 
Reading her cheerful lesson in her own sweet time 



Nor let the proud heart say, 
In her self-torturing hour. 
The travail pangs must have their way, 
The aching brow must lower. 
To us long since the glorious Child is born, 
Our throes should be forgot, or only seem 
Like a sad vision told for joy at morn, 
For joy that we have waked and found it but a d]'eam. 



Mysterious to all thought 
A mother's prime of bliss, 
When to her eager lips is brought 
Her infant's thrilling kiss. 
O never shall it set, the sacred light 

Which dawns that moment on her tender gaze. 
In the eternal distance blending bright 
Her darling's hope and hers, for love and joy and 
praise. 
15* 



174 THIKD SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

No need for her to weep 

Like Thracian wives of yore, 
Save when in rapture still and deep 
Her thankful heart runs o'er. 
They mourn'd to trust their treasure on the main 
Sure of the storm, unknowing of their guide : 
Welcome to her the peril and the pain, 
For well she knows the home where they may safely 
hide. 

She joys that one is born 
Into a world forgiven, 
Her Father's household to adorn, 
And dwell with her in Heaven. 
So have I seen, in Spring's bewitching hour, 

When the glad Earth is offering all her best 

Some gentle maid bend o'er a cherish'd flower 

And wish it worthier on a Parent's heart to rest. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

Nevertheless 1 1^11 you the truth; It is expedient for you that I go 
away : for if I go not a^vay, the Comforter will not come unto wous 
but if I depart, I will send Him unto you. — St. John xvi. 7. 

My Saviour, can it ever be 
That I should gain by losing Thee ? 
The watchful mother tarries nigh, 
Though sleep have closed her infant's eye ; 
For should he wake, and find her gone, 
She knows she could not bear his moan. 
But I am weaker than a child, 

And Thou art more than mother dear ; 
Without Thee Heaven were but a wild : 

How can I live without Thee here ! 

* 'Tis good for you, that I should go, 
' You lingering yet awhile below ;" — 

'Tis Thine own gracious promise. Lord! 

Thy saints have Droved the faithful word 



176 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTEK. 

When Heaven's bright boundless avenue 

Far open'd on their eager view, 

And homeward to Thy Father's throne. 

Still lessening, brightening on their sight 
Thy shadowy car went soaring on ; 

They track'd Thee up th' abyss of light. 

Thou bidd'st rejoice ; they dare not mourr., 
But to their home in gladness turn, 
Their home and God's, that favour'd place^ 
Where still He shines on Abraham's race, 
In prayers and blessings there to wait 
Like suppliants at their Monarch's gate, 
Who bent with bounty rare to aid 

The splendours of His crowning day, 
Keeps back awhile His largess, made 

More welcome for that brief delay . 



In doubt they wait, but not unblest ; 
They doubt not of their Master's rest, 
Nor of • the gracious will of Heaven — 
Who gave His Son, sure all has given — 
But in ecstatic awe they muse 
What course the genial stream may choose. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTliJK EASTJ'^« 177 

And far and wide iheu fancies rove, 
And to their height of wonder strain, 

What secret miracle of love 

Should make their Saviour's going gain. 



The days of hope and prayer are past^ 
The day of comfort dawns at last, 
The everlasting gates again 
Roll back, and, lo ! a royal train — 
From the far depth of light once more 
The floods of glory earLli-ward pour ; 
They part like shower-drops in mid air, 

But ne'er so soft fell noon-tide shower. 
Nor evening rainbow gleam'd so fair 

To weary swains in parched bower. 

Swiftly and straight each tongue of flame 
Through cloud and breeze unwavering can it 
And darted to its place of rest 
On some meek brow of Jesus blest. 
Nor fades it yet, that living gleam, 
And still those lambent lightnings streairi ; 
Where'er the Lord is, there are they ^ 
In every heart that gives them room, 

M 



k78 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

They light His altar every day, 
Zeal to inflame, and vice consume. 



Soft as the plumes of Jesus' Dove 
They nurse the soul to heavenly love : 
The struggling spark of good within, 
Just smother'd in the strife of sin. 
They quicken to a timely glow, 
The pure flame spreading high and low. 
Said I, that prayer and hope were o'er'? 

Nay, blessed Spirit ! but by Thee 
The Church's prayer finds wings to soarj. 

The Church's hope finds eyes to see. 

Then, fainting soul, arise and sing ; 
Mount, but be sober on the wing ; 
Mount up, for Heaven is won by prayer 
Be sober, for thou art not there ; 
Till death the weary spirit free. 
Thy God hath said, 'T is good for thee 
To walk by faith and not by sight : 

Take it on trust a little while ; 
Soon shalt thou read the mj^stery right 

In the full sunshine of His smile. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 179 

Or if thou yet more knowledge crave, 
Ask thine own heart, that willing slave 
To all that works thee woe or harm : 
Should'st thou not need some mighty charm 
To win thee to thy Saviour's side. 
Though He had deign'd with thee to bide ? 
The Spirit must stir the darkling deep, 

The Dove must settle on the Cross, 
Else we should all sin on or sleep 

With Christ in sight, turning our gain to loss. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

EOGATION SUNDAY. * 

And the Lord was very angry with Aaron to nave destroyed LilO' 
and I prayed for Aaron also the same tene. — Beut. ix. 20. 

Now is there solemn pause in earth and heaven; 
The Conqueror now 
His bonds hath riven, 
And angels wonder why He stays below : 
Yet hath not man his lesson learn'd, 
How endless love should be return'd. 

Deep is the silence as of summer noon, 
When a soft shower 
Will trickle soon, 
A gracious rain, freshening the weary bower— 
O sweetl)'- then far off is heard 
The clear note of some lonely bird. 



Jb'IFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. Ibi 

So let Thy turtle-dove's sad call arise 
In doubt and fear 
Through darkening skies, 
And pierce, O Lord, Thy justly-seakd car. 
Where on the house-top", all night long 
She trills her widow'd, faltering song. 

Teach her to know and love her hour of prayer. 

And evermore, 

As faith grows rare, 
Unlock her heart, and offer all its store 
In holier love and humbler vows, 
As suits a lost returning spouse. 

Not as at firsts, but with intenser cry, 
Upon the mount 
She now must lie, 
Till Thy dear love to blot the sad account 
Of her rebellious race be won. 
Pitying the mother in the son. 



n Psalm f;ii. 7. 

o I fell down before the Lord forty days and forty nights, su, f fell 

down at tlie first, — Deicteronomy ix. 25. 

16 



1 82 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER JBASTER. 

But chiefly (for she knows Thee anger'd worst 
By holiest things 
Profaned and curst) — 
Chiefly for Aaron's seed she spreads her wings, 
If but one leaf she may from Thee 
Win of the reconciling tree. 

For what shall heal, when holy water banes ? 
Or who may guide 
O'er desert plains 
Thy loved yet sinful people wandering wide, 
If Aaron's hand unshrinking mould P 
An idol form of earthly gold ? 

Therefore her tears are bitter, and as deep 
Her boding sigh, 
As, while men sleep. 
Sad-hearted mothers heave, that wakeful lie, 
To muse upon some darling child 
Roaming in youth's uncertain wild. 

Therefore on fearful dreams her inward sight 
Is fain to dwell — 
What lurid light 

P Exodus xxxii. 4. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 183 

Shall the last darkness of the world dispel, 
The Mediator in his wrath 
Descending down the lightning's path. 

Yet, yet awhile, offended Saviour, pause, 
In act to break <3 
Thine outraged laws, 
O spare Thy rebels for Thine own dear sake ; 
Withdraw Thine hand, nor dash to earth 
The covenant of our second birth. 

'Tis forfeit like the first — we own it all — 

Yet for love's sake 

Let it not fall ; 

But at Thy touch let veiled hearts awake, 

That nearest to Thine altar lie. 

Yet least of holy things descry. 

Teacher of teachers ! Priest of priests ! from Thee 
The sweet strong prayer 
Must rise, to free 
First Levi, then ail Israel, from the snare. 
Thou art our Moses out of sight — 
Speak for us, or we perish quite. 

1 Exodus xxxii. 19. 



ASCENSION DAY. 



Why stand ye gazing up into Heaven? this same Jesus, which u 
taken up from you into Heaven, shall so come in like manner as yc 
have seen Him go into Heaven. — Acts i. 11. 



Soft cloud, that while the breeze of May 
Chants her glad matins in the leafy arch, 

Draw'st thy bright veil across the heavenly way, 
Meet pavement for an angel's glorious march : 

My soul is envious of mine eye, 
That it should soar and glide with Thee so fast, 

The while my grovelling thoughts half-buried lie, 
Or lawless roam around this earthly waste. 

Chains of my heart, avaunt, I say — 
I will arise, and in the strength of love 

Pursue the bright track ere it fade away, 
My Saviour's pathway to His home above. 



ASCENSION DAY. 185 

Sure, when I reach the point where earth 
Melts into nothing from th' uncumber'd sight, 

Heaven will o'ercome th' attraction of my birth 
And I shall sink in yonder sea of light : 

Till resting by th' incarnate Lord, 
Once bleeding, now triumphant for my sake, 
I mark Him, how by seraph hosts adored, 
Fie to earth's lowest cares is still awake. 

The*sun and every vassal star, 
All space, beyond the soar of angel win^s, 

Wait on His word : and yet He stays His car 
For every sigh a contrite suppliant brings. 

He listens to the silent tear 
For all the anthems of the boundless sky — 

And shall our dreams of music bar our ear 
To His soul-piercing voice for ever nigh? 

Nay, gracious Saviour — but as now 
Our thoughts have traced Thee to Thy glory-thronti 

So help us evermore with Thee to bow 
Where human sorrow breathes her lowly moan. 
16* 



186 



ASCENSION DAY. 



We must not stand to gaze too long, 
Though on unfolding Heaven our gaze we bend, 

Where lost behind the bright angelic throng 
VVe see Christ's entering triumph slow ascend. 

No fear but we shall soon behold, 
Faster than now it fades, that gleam revive, 
When issuing from his cloud of fiery gold 
Our wasted frames feel the true sun, and live. 



Then shall we see Thee as Thou art, 
For ever fix'd in no unfruitful gaze, 

But such as lifts the new-created heart, 
Age after age, in worthier love and praise. 



SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION. 



As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one %9 
another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. 

1 St. Peter iv. 10. 



The Earth that in her genial breast 
Makes for the down a kindly nest, 
Where wafted by the warm south-west 

It floats at pleasure, 
Yields, thankful, of hei very best, 

To nurse her treasure : 

True to her trust, tree, herb, or reed, 
She renders for each scatter'd seed, 
And to her Lord with duteous heed 

Gives large increase : 
Thus year by year she works unfeed. 

And will not cease. 

Woe worth these barren hearts of oiirsj 
Where Thou hast set celestial flowers, 



183 SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION. 

And water'd with more balmy showers 

Than e'er distill'd 
fn Eden, on th' ambrosial bowers — 

Yet nought we yield. 



Largely Thou givest, gracious Lord, 
Largely Thy gifts should be restored } 
Freely Thou givest, and Thy word 

Is, " Freely give^" 
He only, who forgets to hoard, 

Has learn'd to live. 



Wisely Thou givest — all around 
Thine equal rays are resting found, 
Yet varying so on various ground 

They pierce and strike. 
That not two roseate cups are crown'd 

With dew alike : 



Even so, in silence, Ukest Thee, 
Steals on soft-handed Cliarity, 

r St. Matthew x. 8. 




SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION. 189 

Tempering her gifts, that seem so free, 

By time and place, 
Till not a woe the bleak world see, 

But finds her grace : 



Eyes to the blind, and to the lame 
Feet, and to sinners wholes-ome blame, 
To starving bodies food and flame, 

By turns she brings. 
To humbled souls, that sink for shame. 

Lends heaven-ward wings : 



Leads them the way our Saviour went, 
And shows Love's treasure yet unspent ; 
As when th' unclouded heavens were rent 

Opening His road. 
Nor yet His Holy Spirit sent 

To our abode. 

Ten days th' eternal doors displayed 
Were wondering (so th' Almighty bade) 
Whom Love enthroned would send, in aid 
Of souls that mourn, 



190 SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION 

Left orphans in Earth's dreary shade 
As s^^on as born. 



Open they s^ and, that prayers in throngs 
May rise on high, and holy songs, 
Such incense as of right belongs 

To the true shrine. 
Where stands the Healer of all wronga 

In light divine ; 

The golden censer in His hand, 
He offers hearts from every land, 
Tied to His own by gentlest band 

Of silent Love : 
About Him winged blessings stand 

in act to move. 



A little while, and they shall fleet 
From Heaven to Earth, attendants meet 
On the life-giving Paraclete 

Speeding His flight, 
With all that sacred is and sweet. 

On saints to light. 



SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION. 191 

Apostles, Prophets, Pastors, all 
Shall feel the shower of Mercy fall, 
And starting at th' Almighty's call, 

Give what He gave. 
Till their high deeds the world appal, 

And sinners save. 



WHITSUNDAY 



And suddenly there came a sound from Heaven as of a rushing 
mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. 
And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it 
sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy 
Ghost.— ^cis ii. 2-4. 



When God of old came down from Heaven, 
In power and wrath He came ; 

Before His feet the clouds were riven, 
Half darkness and half flame : 

Around the trembling mountain's ba^ 

The prostrate people lay ; 
A day of wrath, and not of grace ; 

A dim and dreadful day. 

But when He came the second time, 

He came in power and love, 
Softer than gale at morning prime 

Hover'd His holy Dove. 



WHITSUNDAY. l93 

The fires that rush'd on Sinai down 

In sudden torrents dread, 
Now gently light, a glorious crown. 

On every sainted head. 

Like arrows went those lightnings forth 
Wing'd with the sinner's doom, 

But these, like tongues, o'er all the earth 
Proclaiming life to come : 

And as on Israel's awe-struck ear 

The voice exceeding loud. 
The trump, that Angels quake to hear, 

Thrill'd from the deep, dark cloud ; 

So, when the Spirit of our God 

Came down His flock to find, 
A voice from Heaven was heard abroad, 

A rushing, mighty wind. 

Nor doth the outward ear alone 

At that high warning start ; 
Conscience gives back th' appalling tone -' 

'Tis echo'd in the heart. 
17 N 



1 94 WHITSUNDAY. 

It fills the Church of God ; it fills 

The sinful world around ; 
Only in stubborn hearts and wills 

No place for it is found. 

To other strains our souls are set • 

A giddy whirl of sin 
Fills ear and brain, and will not let 
, Heaven's harmonies come in. 

Come Lord, come Wisdom, Love, and Powe«, 

Open our ears to hear ; 
Let us not miss th' accepted hour ; 

Save, Lord, by Love or Fear. 



lONDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 



So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all. 
sue earth : and they left off to build the city. — Genesis xi. 8. 



Since all that is not Heaven must fade. 
Light be the hand of Ruin laid 

Upon the home I love : 
With lulling spell let soft Decay- 
Steal on, and spare the giant sway, 

The crash of tower and grove. 

Far opening down some woodland d^ep 
In their own quiet glade should sleep 

The relics dear to thought, 
And wild-flower wreaths from side to side 
Their waving tracery hang, to hide 

What ruthless Time has wrought. 

Such are the visions green and sweet 
That o'er the wistful fancy fleet 



196 MONDAY fN WHITSUN-WEEK. 

In Asia's sea-like plain, 
Where slowly, round his isles of sand, 
Euphrates through the lonely land 

Winds toward the pearly main. 



Slumber is there, but not of rest ; 
There her forlorn and weary nest 

The famish'd hawk has found, 
The wild dog howls at fall of night, 
The serpent's rustling coils affright 

The traveller on his round. 



What shapeless form, half lost on highs, 
Half seen against the evening sky, 

Seems like a ghost to glide, 
And watch, from BabeFs crumbling heap, 
Where in her shadow, fast asleep, 

Lies fall'n imperial Pride? 



See Sir R. K. Porter's Travels, ii. 387. " In my second visit lo Bin 
Niiiirood, my party suddenly halted, having descried several dark 
objects moving along the summit of its hill, which they construed into 
dismounted Arabs on the look out: I took out my glass lo examine, 
and soon distinguished that the causes of our alarm were two or ihrea 
majestic lions, taking the air upon the heights of the pyramid." 



MONDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 197 

With half closed eye a lion there 
Is basking in his noontide lair, 

Or prowls in twilight gloom. 
The golden city's king he seems, 
Such as in old prophetic dreams* 

Sprang from rough ocean's womb. 

But where are now his eagle wings. 
That shelter'd erst a thousand kings, 

Hiding the glorious sky 
From half the nations till they own 
No holier name, no mightier throne? 

That vision is gone by. 

Quench'd is the golden statue's rayu, 
The breath of heaven has blovv^n away 

What toiling earth had piled. 
Scattering wise heart and crafty hand, 
As breezes strew on ocean's sand 

The fabrics of a child. 

Divided thence through every age 
Thy rebels, Lord, their warfare wage, 

t Daniel vii. 4. " Danipl ii. nnd iU 

17=^ 



198 MOTfDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 

And hoarse and jarring all 
Mount up their heaven-assailing cries 
To Thy bright watchmen in the skies 

From Babel's shatter'd wall. 



Thrice only since, with blended might 
The nations on that haughty height 
Have met to scale the Heaven : 
Thrice only might a seraph's look 
A moment's shade of sadness brook- 
Such power to guilt was given. 

Now the fierce Bear and Leopard keen* 
Are perish'd as they ne'er had been, 

Oblivion is their home : 
Ambition's boldest dream and last 
Must melt before the clarion blast 

That sounds the dirge of Rome. 

Heroes and Kings, obey the charm, 
Withdraw the proud high-reaching arm. 
There is an oath on high, 

* Daniel vii. 5, 6. 



MONDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 199 

That ne'er on brow of mortal birth 
Shall blend again the crowns of earth, 
* Nor in according cry 

Her many voices mingling own 
One tyrant Lord, one idol throne : 

But to His triumph soon 
He shall descend who rules above, 
And the pure language of His loveY 

All tongues of men shall tune. , 

Nor let ambition heartless mourn ; 
When Babel's very ruins burn, 

Her high desires may breathe ; — 
O'ercome thyself, and thou may'st share 
With Christ His Father's throne z, and wear 

The world's imperial wreath. 

y Then will I turn to the people a pure language, that they ma}' al. 

ill upon the name of the Lord, to serve Him with one consent.— 
Zephaniah iii. 9. 

z To him that overcoraelh will I grant to sit with Me in My throne. 
—Revelations Iii. 21. 



1 



TUESDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK, 



When He putteth forth His own sheep, He goeth before them. 

St. John X. 4. 



Addressed to Caiididales for Ordination.) 

" Lord, in Thy field I work all day, 
" I read, I teach, I warn, I pray, 
" And yet these wilful wandering sheep 
" Within Thy fold I cannot keep. 

" I journey, yet no step is won — 

" Alas ! the weary course I run ! 

" Like sailors shipwreck'd in their dreams, 

" All powerless and benighted seems." 

What? wearied out with half a life? 
Scared with this smooth unbloody strife ? 
Think where thy coward hopes had flown 
Had Heaven held out the martyr's crown. 



TUESDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 

How could'st thou hang upon the cross, 
To whom a weary hour is loss ? 
Or how the thorns and scourging brook, 
Who shrinkest from a scornful look? 

Yet ere thy craven spirit faints, 
Hear thine own King, the King of Saints ; 
Though thou wert toiling in the grave, 
'T is He can cheer thee. He can save. 

He is th' eternal mirror bright, 
Where angels view the Father's light. 
And yet in Him the simplest swain 
May read his homely lesson plain. 

Early to quit His home on earth. 
And claim His high celestial birth. 
Alone with His true Father found 
Within the Temple's solemn round : 

Yet in meek duty to abide 

For many a year at Mary's side. 

Nor heed, though restless spirits ask, 

"What? hath the Christ forgot His taskt' 



209 TUESDAY IN WHITSUI^-WEEK. 

Conscious of Deity within, 

To bow before an heir of sin 

With folded arms on humble breast, 

By His own servant wash'd and blest :— 

Then full of Heaven, the mystic Dove 
Hovering His gracious brow above, 
To shun the voice and eye of praise. 
And in the wild His trophies raise : 

With hymns of Angels in His ears, 
Back to His task of woe and tears, 
Unmurmuring through the wo»ld to roam 
With not a wish or thought at home : — 

All but Himself to heal and save, 
Till ripen'd for the cross and grave, 
He to His Father gently yield 
The breath that our redemption sea.'M 

Then to unearthly life arise, 
Yet not at once to seek the skies, 
But glide awhile from saint to saint 
Lest on our lonely way we faint ; 



TUESDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 203 

And through the cloud by glimpses show 
How brightj in Heaven, the marks will glow 
Of the true cross, imprinted deep 
Both on the Shepherd and the sheep : — 

When out of sight, in heart and prayer 
Thy chosen people still to bear, 
And from behind Thy glorious veil. 
Shed light that cannot change or fail : — 

This is Thy pastoral course, O LorDj 
Till we be saved, and Thou adored ; — 
Thy course and ours — but who are they 
Who follow on the narrow way 7 

And yet of Thee from year to year 
The Church's solemn chant we hear. 
As from Thy cradle to Thy throne 
She swells her high heart-cheering tone. 

Listen, ye pure white-robed souls, 
Whom in her list she now enrolls, 
And gird ye for your high emprise 
By these her thrilling minstrelsies. 



2C4 TUESDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 

And wheresoe'er, in earth's wide field, 
Ye lift, for Him, the red cross shield, 
Be this your song, your joy and prid 
" Our Champion went before and died," 



TRINITY SUNDAY, 



If I have told you earthly things, and ye believe not, how shall y« 
believe, if I tell you of heavenly things ? — St. John iii. 12. 



Creatoe, Saviour, strengthening Guide, 
Now on Thy mercy's ocean wide 
Par out of sight we seem to glide. 

Help us, each hour, with steadier eye 
To search the deepening mystery. 
The wonders of Thy sea and sky. 

The blessed Angels look and long 
To praise Thee with a worthier song. 
And yet our silence does Thee wrong.-» 

Along the Church's central space 
The sacred weeks, with unfelt pace, 
Have borne us on from grace to grace, 
18 



206 TKINITY SUNDAY. 

As travellers on some woodland height, 
When wintry suns are gleaming bright, 
Lose in arch'd glades their tangled sight ; • 

By glimpses such as dreamers love 
Through her gray veil the leafless grovt 
Shews where the distant shadows rove ;— 

Such trembling joy the soul o'erawes 
As nearer to Thy shrine she draws : — 
And now before the choir we pause. 

The door is closed — but soft and deep 
Around the awful arches sweep 
Such airs as soothe a hermit's sleep. 

From each carved nook and fretted bend 

Cornice and gallery seem to send 

Tones that with seraph hymns might blend. 

Three solemn parts together twine 

In harmony's mysterious line ; 

Three solemn aisles approach the shrine. 



TRINITY SUNDAY. 

Yet all are One — together all, 

In thoughts that awe but not appal, 

Teach the adoring heart to fall. 

Within these walls each fluttering guest 
Is gently lured to one safe nest — 
Without, 'tis moaning and unrest. 

The busy world a thousand ways 

Is hurrying by, nor ever stays 

To catch a note of Thy dear praise. 

Why tarries not her chariot wheel, 
That o'er her with no vain appeal 
One gust of heavenly song might steal ? 

Alas ! for her Thy opening flowers 
Unheeded breathe to summer showers, 
Unheard the music of Thy "bowers. 

What echoes from the sacred dome 
The selfish spirit may o'ercome 
That will not hear of love or home ! 



208 TRINITY SUNDAY. 

The heart that scorn'd a father's care, 
How can it rise in filial prayer ? 
How an all-seeing Guardian bear ? 

Or how shall envious brethren own 
A Brother on th' eternal throne, 
Their Father's joy, their hope alone ? 

How shall Thy Spirit's gracious wile 
The sullen brow of gloom beguile, 
That frowns on sweet Affection's smile 1 

Eternal One, Almighty Trine ! 

(Since Thou art ours, and we are Thine, 

By all Thy love did once resign, 

By all the grace Thy Heavens still hide, 
We pray Thee, keep us at Thy side, 
Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide ! 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 



So Joshua smote all the country . . . and all their kings: he left 
Bone reinaii7.in°r. — Joshua x. 40. 



Where is the land with milk and honey flowing, 

The promise of our God, our fancy's theme 1 
Here over shatter'd walls dank weeds are growing. 
And blood and fire have run in mingled stream ; 
Like oaks and cedars all around 
The giant corses strew the ground, 
And haughty Jericho's cloud-piercing wail 
Lies where it sank at Joshua's trumpet call. 

These are not scenes for pastoral dance at even. 
For moonlight rovings in the fragrant glades. 
Soft slumbers in the open eye of Heaven, 
And all the listless joy of summer shades. 
We in the midst of ruins live, 
Which every hour dread warning give, 
18* o 



210 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.. 

Nor may our household vine or fig-tree hide 
The broken arches of old Canaan's pride. 

Where is the sweet repose of hearts repenting, 
The deep calm sky, the sunshine of the soul, 
INTow Heaven and earth are to our bliss consenting, 
And all the Godhead joins to make us whole ? 
The triple crown of mercy now 
Is ready for the suppliant's brow, 
By the Almighty Three for ever plann'd. 
And from behind the cloud held out by Jesus' hand. 

" Now Christians, hold your own — the land before ye 

" Is open — win your way. and take your rest." 
So sounds our war-note ; but our path of glory 
By many a cloud is darken'd and unblest : 
And daily as we downward glide, 
Life's ebbing stream on either side 
Shows at each turn some mouldering hope or joy. 
The Man seems following still the funeral of the Boy 

Open our eyes. Thou Sun of life and gladness, 
That we may see that glorious world of Thine ! 

It shines for us in vain, while drooping sadness 
Enfolds us here like mist ; come. Power benign, 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 211 

Touch our chill'd hearts with vernal smile, 
Our wintry course do Thou beguile, 

Nor by the wayside ruins let us mourn. 

Who have th' eternal towers for our appointed bourne* 



SECOND SUNDAY APTER TRINITY. 



Marvel not, my brethren, if the world hate you. We know that Ave 
have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren. 

1 St. John iii. 13, 14. 



The clouds that wrap the setting sun 

When Autumn's softest gleams are endiiig, 
Where all bright hues together run 

In sweet confusion blending : — 
Why, as we watch their floating wreath. 
Seem they the breath of life to breathe ? 
To Fancy's eye their motions prove 
They mantle round the Sun for \ove. 

When up some woodland dale we catch 
The many-twinkling smile » of ocean, 



> • • ■ • TtGVTiaV TS KVjxaTCOV 

avripLOjxov yi\a(Tp.a ^Eschyl. Prom. 69 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 213 

Or with pleased ear bewilder'd watch 

His chime of restless motion ; 
Still as the surging waves retire 
They seem to gasp with strong desire, 
Such signs of love old Ocean gives, 
We caniaot choose but think he lives. 

Wouldst thou the life of souls discern ? 

Nor human wisdom nor dir 'ne 
Helps thee by aught beside tc learn ; 

Love is life's only sign. 
The spring of the regenerate heart, 
The pulse, the glow of everj part, 
Is the true love of Christ ov Lord, 
As man embraced, as God ? lored. 

But he, whose heart will bop'id to mark 

The full bright burst of sil*nmer morn, 
Loves too each little dewy sps^V 

By leaf or flow'ret worn : 
Cheap forms, and common hues *is true, 
Through the bright shower-drop meet his view: 
The colouring may be of this earth , 
The lustre comes of heavenlv birth. 



214 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

Even so, who loves the Lord aright, 

No soul of man can worthless find ,* 
All will be precious in his sight, 

Since Christ on all hath shined : 
But chiefly Christian souls ; for they, 
Though worn and soil'd with sinful clay, 
Are yet, to eyes that see them true, 
All glistening with baptismal dew. 

Then marvel not, if such as bask 

In purest light of innocence, 
Hope against hope, in love's dear task, 

Spite of all dark offence. 
If they who hate the trespass most, 
Yet, when all other love is lost. 
Love the poor sinner, marvel not ; 
Christ's mark outwears the rankest blot. 

No distance breaks the tie of blood ; 

Brothers are brothers evermore ; 
Nor wrong, nor wrath of deadliest mood. 

That magic may o'erpow.er ; 
Oft, ere the common source be known, 
The kindred drops will claim their own, 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 215 

And throbbing pulses silently 

Move heart towards heart by sympathy 

So is it with true Christian hearts ; 

Their mutual share in Jesus' blood 
A.n everlasting bond imparts 
Of holiest brotherhood : 
Oh ! might we all our lineage prove. 
Give and forgive, do good and love. 
By soft endearments in kind strife 
Lightening the load of daily life ! 

There is much need ; for not as yet 

Are we in shelter or repose, 
The holy house is still beset 

With leaguer of stern foes ; 
Wild thoughts within, bad men without, 
All evil spirits round about. 
Are banded in unblest device. 
To spoil Love's earthly paradise. 

Then draw we nearer day by day, 
Each to his brethren, all to God ; 
Let the world take us as she may, 
We must not change our road ; 



216 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Not wondering, though in grief, to find 
The martyr's foe still keep her mind ; 
But fix'd to hold Love's banner fast, 
And by submission wm at last. 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 



There is joy in the presence of the Angels of God over one sinne 
hat repenteth. — St. Luke xv. 10*. 



HATEFUL spell of Sin ! when friends are nigh, 
To make stern Memory tell her tale unsought, 

And raise accusing shades of hours gone by, 
To come between us and all kindly thought ! 

Chill'd at her touch, the self-reproaching soul 
Flies from the heart and home she dearest lovea 

To where lone mountains tower, or billows roll, 
Or to your endless depth, ye solenni groves. 

In vain : the averted cheek in loneliest dell 
Is conscious of a gaze it cannot bear, 

The leaves that rustle near us seem to tell 
Our heart's sad secret to the silent air, 
19 



218 THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRIWlTiT. 

Nor is the dream untrue ; for all around 

The heavens are watchmg with their thousand eyes, 

We cannot pass our guardian Angel's bound, 
Resign'd or sullen, he will hear our sighs. 

He in the mazes of the budding wood 

Is near, and mourns to see our thankless glance 

Dwell coldly, where the fresh green earth is strew'd 
With the first flowers that lead the vernal dance. 

In wasteful bounty shower'd, they smile unseen. 
Unseen by man — but what if purer sprights 

By moonlight o'er their dewy bosoms lean 
To adore the Father of all gentle lights ? 

If such there be, O grief and shame to think 
That sight of thee should overcloud their joy, 

A new-born soul just waiting on the brink 
Of endless life, yet wrapt in earth's annoy ! 

O turn, and be thou turn'd ! the selfish tear, 
In bitter thoughts of low-born care begun. 

Let it flow on, but flow refined and clear, 
The turbid waters brio;hteniniT as they run. 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 219 

Let it flow on, till all thine earthly heart 
In penitential drops have ebb'd away, 

Then fearless turn where Heaven hath set thy part^ 
Nor shudder at the Eye that saw thee stray. 

lost and found ! all gentle souls below 

Their dearest welcome shall prepare, and prove 

Such joy o'er thee, as raptured seraphs know. 
Who learn their lesson at the Throne of Love. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY 



For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the mani- 
festation of the sons of God. For the creature was made subject to 
vanity, not willingly, but by reason of Him who hath subjected the 
same in hope, because the creature itself also shall be delivered from 
tiie bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of 
God. For we know that the whole creation groaneth and Iravaileth 
in pain together until now. — Romans viii. 19-22. 



It was not then a poet's dream, 

An idle vaunt of song, 
Such as beneath the moon's soft gleam 

On vacant fancies throng ; 

^''hich bids us see in heaven and earth, 

In all fair things around, 
Strong yearnings for a blest new birth 

With sinless glories crown'd ; 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 221 

Which bids us hear, at each sweet pause 

From care and want and toil, 
When dewy eve her curtain draws 

Over the day's turmoil, 

In the low chant of wakeful birds, 

In the deep weltering flood, 
In whispering leaves, these solemn words— 

« God made us all for good." 

All true, all faultless, all in tune, 

Creation's wondrous choir, 
Open'd in mystic unison 

To last till time expire. 

And still it lasts : by day and night. 

With one consenting voice. 
All hymn Thy glory, Lord, aright, 

All worship and rejoice. , 

Man only mars the sweet accord, 

O'erpowering with " harsh din" 

The music of Thy works and word, 
111 match'd with grief and sin 
19^ 



^i 



222 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Sin is with man at morning break, 
And through the Uvelong day 

Deafens the ear that fain would wake 
To Nature's simple lay. 

But when eve's silent footfall steals 

Along the eastern sky, 
And one by one to earth reveals 

Those purer fires on high, 

When one by one each human sound 

Dies on the awful ear, 
Then Nature's voice no more is drown'd, 

She speaks, and we must hear. 

Then pours she on the Christian heart 
That warning still and deep, 

At which high spirits of old would start 
Even from their Pagan sleep. 

Just guessing, through their murky blind, 
Few, faint, and baffling sight, 

Streaks of a brighter heaven behind, 
A cloudless depth of light. 



FOURTK SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 223 

Such thoughts, the wreck of Paradise, 

Through many a dreary age, 
Upbore whate'er of good and wise 

Yet Uved in bard or sage : 

They mark'd what agonizing throes 
Shook the great mother's womb ; 

But Reason's spells might not disclose 
The gracious birth to come ; 

Nor could th' enchantress Hope forecast 

God's secret love and power ; 
The travail pangs of Earth must last 

Till her appointed hour ; 

The hour that saw from opening heaven 

Redeeming glory stream, 
Beyond the summer hues of even, 

Beyond the mid-day beam. 

Thenceforth, to eyes of high desire. 

The meanest things below. 
As with a seraph's robe of fire 

Invested, burn and glow : 



224* FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

The rod of Heaven has touch'd them all, 
The word from heaven is spoken ; 

" Rise, shine, and sing, thou captive thrall : 
"Are not thy fetters broken? 

" The God Who hallow'd thee and bless'd. 

" Pronouncing thee all good — 
" Hath He not all thy wrongs redress'd, 

" And all thy bliss renew'd ? 

" Why mourn'st thou still as one bereft, 
" Now that th' eternal Son 

" His blessed home in heaven hath left 
" To make thee all His own ?" 

Thou mourn'st because Sin lingers still 
In Christ's new heaven and earth ; 

Because our rebel works and will 
Stain our immortal birth ; 

Because, as Love and Prayer grow cold, 
The Saviour hides His face, 

And worldlings blot the temple's gold 
With uses vile and base. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 225 

Hence ail thy groans and trav^^il pains, 

Hence, till thy God return, 
In Wisdom's ear thy blithest strains, 

Oh ! Nature, seem to mourn 



EIFTH SUNDAY AETER TRINITY. 



And Simon answering, said unto Him, Master, we have toiled all the 
night, and have taken nothing t nevertheless at Thy word I will let 
down the net. And when they had this done, they inclosed a great 
multitude of fishes ; and their net brake. — St. Luke y. 5, 6. 



" The livelong night we 've toil'd in vain, 
" But at Thy gracious word 

* I will let down the net again : — 
« Do Thou Thy will, O Lord !" 

So spake the weary fisher, spent 
With bootless darkling toil, 

Yet on his Master's bidding bent 
For love and not for spoil. 

So day by day and week by week, 
In sad and weary thought, 

They muse, whom God hath set to seek 
The souls His Christ hath boui^ht. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 227 

For not upon a tranquil lake 

Our pleasant task we ply, 
Where all along our glistening wake 

The softest moonbeams lie ; 

Where rippling wave and dashing oax 

Our midnight chant attend, 
Or whispering palm-leaves from the shore 

With midnight silence blend. 

Sweet thoughts of peace, ye may not last : 

Too soon some ruder sound 
Calls us from where ye soar so fast 

Back to our earthly round. 

For wildest storms our ocean sweep : — 

No anchor but the Cross 
Might hold : and oft the thankless deep 

Turns all our toil to loss. 

Full many a dreary anxious hour 

We watch our nets alone 
In drenching spray, and driving shower. 

And hear the night-bird's moan : 



228 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

At morn we look, and nought is there ; 

Sad dawn of cheerless day ! 
Who then from pining and despair 

The sickening heart can stay ? 

There is a stay — and we are strong $ 

Our Master is at hand, 
To cheer our solitary song, 

And guide us to the strand, 

In His own time : but yet awhile 
Our bark at sea must ride : 

Cast after cast, by force or guile 
All waters must be tried : 

By blameless guile or gentle force, 
As when He deign'd to teach 

(The lone-star of our Christian course) 
Upon this sacred beach. 

Should e'er Thy wonder-working grace 
Triumph by our weak arm. 

Let not our sinful fancy trace 
Aught human in the charm : 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 229 

To our own nets^ ne'er bow we down, 

Lest on the eternal shore 
The Angels, while our draught they own*', 

Reject us evermore : 

Or, if for our miworthiness 

Toil, prayer, and watching fail, 

In disappointment Thou canst bless, 
So love at heart prevail. 



b They sacrifice unto their net, and burn incense unto their dnigi 
-R ibakhuk i. IG. 
c fet. Matthew xiii. 49. 

20 



.4 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 



David said unto Nathan, I have sinned against the Lord. And Na- 
than said unto David, The Lord also hath put away thy sin ; thou shall 

not die. — 2 Samuel xii. 13. 



When bitter thoughts, of conscience bom, 

With sinners wake at morn, 
When from our restless couch we start, 
With fever'd lips and withered heart. 
Where is the spell to charm those mists away. 
And make new morning in that darksome day 'I 
One draught of spring's delicious air, 
One steadfast thought, that God is there. 

These are Thy wonders, hourly wrought ^, 

Thou Lord of time and thought, 
Lifting and lowering souls at wiU, 
Crowding a world of good or ill 

d See Herbert's Poems, p. ISO 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRUCITY. 231 

Into a moment's vision ; even as light 
Mounts o'er a cloudy ridge, and all is bright, 
From west to east one thrilling ray- 
Turning a wintry world to May. 

Would'st thou the pangs of guilt assuage 1 

Lo ! here an open page, 
Where heavenly mercy shines as free. 
Written in balm, sad heart, for thee. 
Never so fast in silent April shower, 
Flush'd into green the dry and leafless bower® 
As Israel's crowned mourner felt 
The dull hard stone within him melt. 

The absolver saw the mighty grief, 
And hasten'd with relief; — 

" The Lord forgives ; thou shalt not die :" — 

'Twas gently spoke, yet heard on high. 
And all the band of Angels, used to sing 
In heaven, accordant to his raptured string, 

Who many a month had turn'd away 

With veiled eyes, nor own'd his lay, 

And all this leafless and uncolour'd scene 
Shall flush into variety again. — Coivper. 



232 SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Now spread their wings, and throng around 

To the glad mournful sound, 
And welcome with bright open face. 
The broken heart to love's embrace. 
The rock is smitten, and to future years 
Springs ever fresh the tide of holy tears <" 
And holy music, whispering peace 
Till time and sin together cease. 

There drink ; and when ye are at rest, 

With that free spirit blest ?, 
Who to the contrite can dispense 
The princely heart of innocence. 
If ever floating from faint earthly lyre, 
Was wafted to your soul one high desire. 
By all the trembling hope ye feel, 
Think on the minstrel as ye kneel : 

Think on the shame, that dreadful hour 
When tears shall have no power, 



f The fifty-first Psalm. 

s Psalm li. 12. "Uphold me with thy free Spirit." The originaJ 
word seems to mean "ingenuous, princely, noble." Riad Bishop 
Home's Paraphrase on the verse. 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 233 

Should his own lay th' accuser prove, 
Cold while he kindled others' love : 
And let your prayer for charity arise, 
That his own heart may hear his melodies, 
And a true voice to him may cry, 
«* Thy God forgives — thou shalt not die*'' 



'i 



SEVENTH SUNDAY APTEE TRINITY 



From whence can a man satisfy these men with b'-ead here in the 
wilderness ? — St. Mark viii. 4. 



Go not away, thou weary soul : 
Heaven has in store a precious dole 

Here on Bethsaida's cold and darksome height. 
Where over rocks and sands arise 
Proud Sirion in the northern skies, 

And Tabor's lonely peak, 'twixt thee and noon-day 
light. 

And far below, Gennesaret's main 
Spreads many a mile of liquid plain, 

(Though all seem gather'd in one eager bound,) 
Then narrowing cleaves yon palmy lea, 
Towards that deep sulphureous sea. 

Where five proud cities lie, by one dire sentence 
drown'd. 



SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 235 

Landscape of fear ! yet, weary heart, 

Thou need'st not in thy gloom depart, 
Nor fainting turn to seek thy distant home : 

Sweetly thy sickening throbs are eyed 

By the kind Saviour at thy side ; 
For healing and for balm even now thy hour is como. 

No fiery wing is seen to glide, 

No cates ambrosial are supplied, 
But one poor fisher's rude and scanty store 

Is all He asks (and more than needs) 

Who men and Angels daily feeds, 
And stills the wailing sea-bird on the hungry shore). 

The feast is o'er, the guests are gone. 

And over all that upland lone 
The breeze of eve sweeps wildly as of old— 

But far unlike the former dreams, 

The heart's sweet moonlight softly gleams, 
Upon life's varied view, so joyless erst and cok!. 

As mountain travellers in the night. 
When Heaven by fits is dark and bright. 
Pause listening on the silent heath, and hear 



236 SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITr. 

Nor trampling hoof nor tinkling bell. 
Then bolder scale the rugged fell 
Conscious the more of One, ne'er seen, yet evei 
near: 

So when the tones of rapture gay 

On the lorn ear die quite away. 
The lonely world seems lifted nearer heaven ; 

Seen daily, yet unmark'd before. 

Earth's common paths are strewn all o'er 
With, flowers of pensive hope, the wreath of man 
forgiven. 

The low sweet tones of Nature's lyre 

No more on listless ears expire. 
Nor vainly smiles along the shady way 

The primrose in her vernal nest, 

Nor unlamented sink to rest 
Sweet roses one by one, nor autumn leaves decay. 

There's not a star the heaven can show, 
There's not a cottage hearth below, 

But feeds with solace kind the willing soul- 
Men love us, or they need our love ; 
Freely they own, or heedless prove 

The curse of lawless hearts, the joy of self-control 



SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 23t 

Then rouse thee from desponding sleep, 

Nor by the wayside lingering weep, 
Nor fear to seek Him farther in the wild, 

Whose love can turn earth's worst and least 

Into a conqueror's royal feast : 
Thou wilt not be untrue, thou shalt not be beguiled 



EIGHTH SUNDAY A^TER TRINITY. 



Et is the man of God, who was disobedient umo the word o{ tb 
jord. — 1 Kings xiii. 26. 



Peophet of God, arise and take 
With thee the words of wrath divine, 
The scourge of Heaven, to shake 
O'er yon apostate shrine. 

Where Angels down the lucid stair 
Came hovering to our sainted sires, 
Now, in the twilight, glare 
The heathen's wizard fires. 

Go, ^'' ui thy voice the aitar rend, 
ocatter the ashes, be the arm, 
That idols would befriend. 
Shrunk at tliv withorins: charm. 



EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TEINITY. 239 

Then turn thee, for thy time is short, 
But trace not o'er the former way, 

Lest idol pleasures court 

Thy heedless soul astray. 

Thou know'st how hard to hurry by. 
Where on the lonely woodland road 

Beneath the moonlight sky 

The festal warblings flow'd ; 

Where maidens to the Queen of Heaven 
Wove the gay dance round oak or palm, 

Or breathed their vows at even 

In hymns as soft as balm. 

Or thee, perchance, a darker spell 
Enthralls ; the smooth stones of the flood^ 

By mountain grot or fell, 

Pollute with infant's blood ; 

The giant altar on the rock, 

The cavern whence the timbrel's call 



» Among the smooth stones of the stream is thy portion ; they, the 
are thy lot. — Isaiah Ivii. 6. 



24«0 EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Affrights the wandering flock : — 
Thou long'st to search them all. 



Trust not the dangettms path again — 
O forward step and lingering will ! 

O loved and warn'd in vain ! 

And wilt thou perish still ? 

Thy message given, thine home in sight 

To the forbidden feast return ? 
Yield to the false delight 
Thy better soul could spurn? 

Alas, my brother ! round thy tomb 
In sorrow kneeling, and in fear, 
We read the pastor's doom 
Who speaks and will not hear. 

The gray-hair'd saint may fail at last 
The surest guide a wanderer prove ; 
Death only binds us fast 
To the bright shore of love. 



NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

A.nd after the earthquake a fire ; but the Lord was not intnefirai 
fir«3 after the fire a still small voice. — 1 Kings xix. 12. 

.N troublous days of anguish and rebuke, 
While sadly round them Israel's children look, 

And their eyes fail for waiting on their Lord ; 
While underneath each awful arch of green. 
On every mountain top, God's chosen scene 

Of pure heart-worship, Baal is adored : 

*Tis well, true hearts should for a tmie retire 
To holy ground, in quiet to aspire 

Towards promised regions of serener grace ; 
On Horeb, with Elijah, let us lie, 
Where all around on mountain, sand, and sky, 

God's chariot wheels have left distinctest trace '. 
21 a 



242 NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

There, if in jealousy and strong disdain 
We to the sinner's God of sin complain, 

Untimely seeking here the peace of Heaven— 
" It is enough, O Lord ! now let me die 
" Even as my fathers did : for what am I 

" That I should stand, where they have vainly 
" striven ]" — 

Perhaps our God may of our conscience ask, 
" What doest thou here, frail wanderer from thy 
"task? 
" Where hast thou left those few sheep in the 
"wildi?" 
Then should we plead our heart's consuming pain, 
At sight of ruin'd altars, prophets slain, 

And God's own ark with blood of souls defiled ; 

He on the rock may bid us stand, and see 
The outskirts of His march of mystery, 

His endless warfare with man's wilful heart ; 
First, His great Power He to the sinner shews, 
Lo ! at His angry blast the rocks unclose, 

And to their base the trembling mountains part : 

' 1 Samuel xvi. 28. 



NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 243 

fet the Lord is not here : 'tis not by Power 
He will be known — but darker tempests lower ; 

Still, sullen heavings vex the labouring ground : 
Perhaps His Presence through all denth and height, 
Best of all gems, that deck His crown of light, 

The haughty eye may dazzle and confound. 

God is not in the earthquake ; but behold 
From Sinai's caves are bursting, as of old, 

The flames of his consuming jealous ire. 
Woe to the sinner should stern Justice prove 
His chosen attribute ; — but He in love 

Hastes to proclaim, " God is not m the fire." 

The storm is o'er — and hark ! a still small voice 
Steals on the ear, to say, Jehovah's choice 

Is ever with the soft, meek, tender soul : 
By soft, meek, tender ways. He loves to draw 
The sinner, startled by His ways of awe : 

Here is our Lord, and not where thunders rolU 

Back, then, complainer ; loathe thy life no more,' 
Nor deem thyself upon a desert shore, 

Because the rocks the nearer prospect close. 



244 NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TEINITV. ^ 

Yet in fallen Israel are there hearts and eyes 
That day by day in prayer like thine arise : 

Thou know'st them not, but their Creator knows 

Go, to the world return, nor fear to cast 
Thy bread upon the waters, sure at last^ 

In joy to find it after many days. 
The work be thine, the fruit thy children's part : 
Choose to believe, not see : sight tempts the heart 

From sober walking in true Gospel ways, 

fc Ecclesiaates s>- £. 



TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 



And when He was come near, He beheld the city, and wept over iv, 

St. Luke xix. 41. 



Why doth my Saviour weep 

At sight of Sion's bowers ? 
Shows it not fair from yonder steep. 

Her gorgeous crown of towers? 
Mark well His holy pains : 

'Tis not in pride or scorn, 
That Israel's King with sorrow stains 

Hi.« own triumphal morn. 

It is not that His soul 

Is wandering sadly on, 
in thought how soon at death's dark goal 

Their course will all be run, 

2i ^ 



246 TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

Who now are shouting round 

Hosanna to their chief; 
No thought like this in Him is found, 

This were a Conqueror's griefs 

Or ddth He feel the Cross 

Already in His heart, 
The pain, the shame, the scorn, the loss? 

Feel even His God depart? 
No : though He knew full well 

The grief that then shall be — 
The grief that Angels cannot tell — 

Our God in agony. 

It is not thus He mourns : 

Such might be Martyr's tears, 
When His last lingeiing look He turns 

On human hopes and fears ; 
But hero ne'er or saint 

The secret load might know, 
With which His spirit waxeth faint * 

His is a Saviour's woe. 

" If thou hadst known, even thou, 
"At least in this thy day, 

1 Compare Herod vii. 46. 



TENTH SUNDAY AFTP^R TRINITY. 24f1 

" The message of thy peace ; but now 

'T is pass'd for aye away : 
" Now foes shall trench thee round, 

" And lay thee even with earth, 
* And dash thy children to the ground, 

"Thy glory and thy mirth." 

And doth the Saviour weep 

Over His people's sin. 
Because we will not let Him keep 

The souls He died to win ? 
Ye hearts, that love the Lord, 

If at this sight ye burn, 
See that in thought, in deed, in word, 

Ye hate what made Him mourn. 



ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY 



Is il a time to receive money, and to receive garments, and olive- 
yards, and vineyards, and sheep, and oxen, and manservants, and 
maidservants ? — 2 Kings v. 26. 



Is this a time to plant and build, 
Add house to house, and field to field, 
When round our walls the battle lowers, 
When mines are hid beneath our towers, 
And watchful foes are stealing round 
To search and spoil the holy ground? 

Is this a time for moonlight dreams 
Of love and home by mazy streams. 
For fancy with her shadowy toys, 
Aerial hopes and pensive joys. 
While souls are wandering far and wide, 
And curses swarm on every side 1 



ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 249 

No — rather steel thy melting heart 
To act the martyr's sternest part, 
To watch, with firm unshrinking eye, 
Thy darling visions as they die. 
Till all bright hopes, and hues of day, 
Have faded into twilight gray. 

Y'es — let them pass without a sigh, 

And if the world seem dull and dry, 

If long and sad thy lonely hours. 

And winds have rent thy sheltering bowers, 

Bethink thee what thou art and where, 

A sinner in a life of care. 

The fire of God is soon to fall 
(Thou know'st it) on this earthly ball ; 
Full many a soul, the price of blood, 
Mark'd by th' Almighty's hand for good, 
To utter death that hour shall sweep — 
And will the Saints in Heaven dare weep ? 

Then in His wrath shall God uproot 
The trees He set for lack of fruit. 
And drown in rude tempestuous bl^^ze 
The towers His hand had deign'd t^-> raise ", 



I 

250 ELEVENTH SUNDAY A* TER TRINITY. ^ 

In silence, ere that storm begin. 
Count o'er His mercies and thy sin. 

Pray only that thine aching heart, 
From visions vain content to part. 
Strong for Love's sake its woe to hide 
May cheerful wait the Cross beside. 
Too happy if, that dreadful day. 
Thy life be given thee for a prey^, 

Snatch'd sudden from th' avenging rod, 
Safe in the bosom of thy God, 
How wilt thou then look back, and smile 
On thoughts that bitterest seem'd erewhile, 
And bless the pangs that made thee see 
This was no world of rest for thee ! 



» The Lord saith thus: Behold, that which I have built will I break 
down, and that which I have planted I will pluck up, even this wliole 
land. And seekest thou great things for thyself ? seek them not: for. 
behold, I will bring evil upon all flesh, saith the Lord : but thy life 
will I give unto thee for a prey in all places whither Ihou goest. — 
Jeremiah xlv. 4, 5. 



TWELFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 



And looking up to heaven, He sighed, and saith unto him, Ephplui*^ 
tha, that is, Be opened. — St. Mark vii. 34. 



The Son of God in doing good 

Was fain to look to Heaven and sigh : 
And shall the heirs of sinful blood 

Seek joy unmix'd in charity? 
God will not let Love's work impart 
Full solace, lest it steal the heart ; 
Be thou content in tears to sow, 
Blessing, like Jesus, in thy woe : 

He look'd to Heaven, and sadly sigh'd-— 
What saw my gracious Saviour therey 

With fear and anguish to divide 

The joy of Fleaven-accepted prayer ! 



252 TWELFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

So o'er the bed where Lazarus slept 
He to His Father groan'd and wept : 
What saw He mournful in that grave, 
Knowing Himself so strong to save ? 

O'erwhelming thoughts of pain and grief 
Over His sinking spirit sweep ; — 
What boots it gathering one lost leaf 
" Out of yon sere and wither'd heap, 
" Where souls and bodies, hopes and joys, 
" All that earth owns or sin destroys, 
" Under the spurning hoof are cast, 
" Or tossing in th' autumnal blast 1" 

The deaf may hear the Saviour's voice, 

The fetter'd tongue its chain may break ; 
But the deaf heart, the dumb by choice,. 
The laggard soul, that will not wake, 
The guilt that scorns to be forgiven ; — 
These baffle e'en the spells of Heaven; 
In thought of these, His brows benign 
Not even in healing cloudless shine. 



No eye but His might ever bear 
To gaze all down that drear abyss. 



TWELFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 253 

Because none ever saw so clear 

The shore beyond of endless bliss 2 
The giddy waves so restless hurl'd, 
The vex'd pulse of this feverish world 
He views and counts with steady sight, 
Used to behold the Infinite. 



But that in such communion high 
He hath a fount of strength within, 

Sure His meek heart would break and dit 
O'erburthen'd by His brethren's sin ; 

Weak eyes on darkness dare not gaze, 

It dazzles like the noonday blaze ; 

But He who sees God's face may brook 

On the true face of Sin to look. 

What then shall wretched sinners do, 

When in their last, their hopeless day 
Sin, as it is, shall meet their view, 

God turn His face for aye away ? 
Lord, by Thy sad and earnest eye, 
When Thou didst look to Heaven and sigh , 
Thy voice, that with a word could chase 
The dumb, deaf ^irit from his place ; 
22 



254« TWELFTH JUN VY AFTER TRINITY. 

As Thou hast tou^A'd our ears, and taught 

Our tongUy3s to npeak Thy praises plain, 

Quell Thou each than'* 'es.'s godless thought 

That would make fb... t our bonds again. 
From worldly strife, from mirth unblest, 
Drowning Thy music in the breast. 
From foul reproach, from thrilling fears, 
Preserve, good Lord, Thy servants' ears. 

From idle words, that restless throng 

And haunt our hearts when we would pray.. 
From Pride's false chime, and jarring wrong, 

Seal Thou my lips and guard the way : 
For Thou liast sworn, that every ear, 
Willing, or loth, Thy trump shall hear, 
And every tongue unchained be 
To own no hope, no God, but Thee. 



THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

And He turned Hmi unto His disciples, and said privately, Bletsed 
are the eyes which see the things that ye see : for I tell you, ilja 
many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which ye sf^e^ 
and have not seen them : and to hear those things which ye hear, and 
have not heard them.— Si. Luke x. 2-3, 24. 

On Sinai's top, in prayer and trance, 
FuH forty nights and forty days 

The Prophet watch'd for one dear glance 
Of Thee and of Thy ways : 

Fasting he watch'd and all alone, 
Wrapt in a still, dark, solid cloud, 

The curtain of the Holy One 
Drawn round Him like a shroud : 

So, separate from the world, his breast 
Might duly take and strongly keep 

The print of Heaven, to be express'd 
Ere long on Sion's steep". 

n See that thou make all things according to the pattern showed to 
iitee in the mount. — Hebrews viii. 5. 



256 THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

There one by one his spirit saw 

Of things divine the shadows bright, 

The pageant of God's perfect law ; 
Yet felt not full delight. 

Through gold and gems, a dazzling maze, 
From veil to veil the vision led, 

And ended, where unearthly rays 
From o'er the Ark were shed. 

Yet not that gorgeous place, nor aught 

Of human or angelic frame, 
Could half appease his craving thought , 

The void was still the same. 

" Show me Thy glory, gracious Lord ! 

" 'Tis Thee," he cries, " not Thine I seeko"- 
Nay, start not at so bold a word 

From man, frail worm and weak : 

The spark of his first deathless fire 
Yet buoys him up, and high above 

The holiest creature, dares aspire 
To the Creator's love. 

o Exodus xxxiii. 18. 



% 

4 



THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 257 

'J^he eye in smiles may wader round^ 

Caught by earth's shadows as they fleet j 

But for the soul no help is found, 
Save Him who made it, meet. 

Spite of yourselves, ye witness this^, 

Who blindly self or sense adore ; 
Else wherefore leaving your own bliss 

Still restless ask ye more ? 

This witness bore the saints of old 
When highest rapt and favoured most, 

Still seeking precious things untold, 
Not in fruition lost. 

Canaan was theirs, and in it all 

The proudest hope of kings dare claim ; 

Sion was theirs ; and at their call 
Eire from Jehovah came. 

Yet monarchs walk'd as pilgrims still 

In their own land, earth^s pride and grace , 

And seers would mourn on Sion's hill 
Their Lord's averted face. 

P Pens^es de Pascal, part 1. art. viii, 

22* R 



258 THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

Vainly they tried the deeps to sound 
Even of their own prophetic thought. 

When of Christ crucified and crown'd 
His spirit in them taught : 

. But He their aching gaze repress'd, 
Which sought behind the veil to seCg 
For not without us fully blest <i 
Or perfect might they be. 

The rays of the Almighty's face 
No sinner's eye might then receive | 

Only the meekest man found grace' 
To seek His skirts and live. 

But we as in a glass espy 

The glory of His countenance. 
Not in a whirlwind hurrying by 

The too presumptuous glance, 

But with mild radiance every hour, 
From our dear Saviour's face benign 

Bent on us with transforming power, 
Till we, too, faintly shine. 

q That they without us should not be made perfect. — Hebrews si. 40. 
' Exodus xxxi/i. 20-23. 



THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 259 

Sprinkled with His atoning blood 

Safely before our God we stand 
As on the rock the Prophet stood, 

Beneath His shadowing hand.— 

Bless'd eyes, which see the things we seel 
And yet this tree of life hath proved 

To many a soul a poison tree, 
Beheld and not beloved. 

So like an Angel's is our bliss 

(Oh ! thought to comfort and appal; 

ft needs must bring, if used amiss. 
An Angel's hopeless falL 



FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AETER TRINITY. | 

I 

And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? but wliere ; 
are tlie nine ? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, J 
gave this stranger St. Luke xvii. 17, 18 I 



Ten cleansed, and only one remain ! 
Who would have thought our nature's stain 
Was dyed so foul, so deep in grain ? 

Even He who reads the heart, — 
Knows what He gave and what we lost, 
Sin's forfeit, and redemption's cost, — - 
By a short pang of wonder cross'd 

Seems at the sight to start ; 



Yet 'twas not wonder, but His love 
Our wavering spirits would reprove. 
That heaven- ward seem so free to move 
When earth can yield no more • 



FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 261 

Then from afar on God we cry ; 
Dut should the mist of woe roll by. 
Not showers across an April sky 
Drift, when the storm is o'er, 

Faster than those false drops and few 
Fleet from the heart, a worthless dew. 
What -sadder scene can Angels view 

Than self-deceiving tears, 
Pour'd idly over some dai k page 
Of earlier life, though pride or rage 
The record of to-day engage, 

A woe for future years? 

Spirits, that round the sick man's bed 
Watch'd, noting down each prayer he made, 
Were your unerring roll display'd 

His pride of health to abase ; 
Or, when soft showers in season fall 
Answering a famish'd nation's call, 
Should unseen fino;ers on the wall 

Our vows forgotten trace ; 

How should we gaze in trance of fear 
Yet shines the light as thrilling clear 



262 FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY* 

From Heaven upon that scroll severe, 
" Ten cleansed and one remain !" 
Nor surer would the blessing prove 
Of humbled hearts, that own Thy love 
Should choral welcome from above 
Visit our senses plain ; 

Than by Thy placid voice and brow, 
With healing first, with comfort now, 
Turn'd upon him, who hastes to bow 

Before Thee heart and knee ; 
" Oh ! thou, who only would'st be blest, 
" On thee alone My blessing rest ! 

" Rise, go thy way in peace, possess'd 

" For evermore of Me." 



FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY 



Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. 

St. Matthew vi. 28. 



Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies. 

Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew, 
What more than magic in you lies. 

To fill the heart's fond view ? 
In childhood's sports, companions gay, 
In sorrow, on Life's downward way, 
How soothing ! in our last decay 

Memorials prompt and true. 

Relics ye are of Eden's bowers, 
As pure, as fragrant, and as fair. 

As when ye crown'd the sunshine houra 
Of happy wanderers there. 



264« FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRTNIl V. 

Fall'n all beside — the world of life, 
How is it stain'd witii fear and strife ! 
In Reason's world what storms are rife, 
What passions range and glare ! 

But cheerful and unchanged the while 
Your first and perfect form ye show, 

The same that won Eve's matron smile 
In the world's opening glow. 

The stars of heaven a course are taught 

Too high above our human thought ; 

Ye may be found if ye are sought, 
And as we gaze, we know. 

Ye* dwell beside our paths and homes. 

Our paths of sin, our homes of sorro"'V 
And guilty man, where'er he roams, 
Your innocent mirth may borrow. 
The birds of air before us fleet, 
They cannot brook our shame to meet — 
But we may taste your solace sweet 
And come ao;ain to-morrow. 

Ye fearless in your nests abide — 

Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise, 



FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 265 

Your silent lessons, undescried 

By n,ll but lowly eyes : 
For ye could draw th' admiring gaze 
Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys: 
Your order wild, your fragrant maze, 

He taught us how to prize. 

Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour, 

As when He paused and own'd you good 
His blessing on earth's primal bower, 

Ye felt it all renew'd. 
What care ye now, if winter's storm 
Sweep ruthless o'er each silken form 1 
Christ's blessing at your heart is warm, 
Ye fear no vexing mood. 

Alas ! of thousand bosoms kind, 

That daily court you and caress, 
How few the happy secret find 

Of your calm loveliness ! 
"■^ Live for to-day ! to-morrow's light 
*' To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight, 
" Go sleep like closing flowers at night, 
" And Heaven thy morn will bless." 
23 



SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTEK TRINITY. 

I desire that ye faint not at my tribulations for you, which is your 
^\ofy.—Ephesia7is iii. 13. 

Wish not, dear friends, my pain away — 
Wish me a wise and thankful heart, 

With God, in all my griefs, to stay, 
Nor from His loved correction start. 

The dearest offering He can crave 
His portion in our souls to prove, 

What is it to the gifts He gave, 
The only Son of His dear love? 

But we, like vex'd unquiet sprights. 
Will still be hovering o'er the tomb, 

Where buried lie our vain delights. 
Nor sweetly take a sinner's doom. 



SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTES TRINITY. 267 

In Life's long sickness evermore 
Our thoughts are tossing to and fro : 

We change our posture o'er and o'er, 
But cannot rest, nor cheat our woe. 

Were it not better to lie still, 

Let Him strike home and bless the rod, 
Never so safe as when our will 

Yields undiscern'd by all but God 1 

Thy piecious things, whate'er they be, 
That haunt and vex thee, heart and brain. 

Look to the Cross, and thou shalt see 
How thou may'st turn them all to gain. 

Lovest thou praise ? the Cross is shame : 
Or ease 1 the Cross is bitter grief; 

More pangs than tongue or heart can frame 
Were suffer'd there without relief. 

We of that Altar would partake, 
But cannot quit thft cost — no throne 

[s ours, to leave for Thy dear sake — 
We cannot do as Thou hast done. 



268 SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TEINITST. 

We cannot part with Heaven for Thee — 
Yet guide us in Thy track of love : 

Let us gaze on where light should be, 
Though not a beam the clouds remove. 

So wanderers ever fond and true 

Look homeward through the evening sky 

Without a streak of Heaven's soft blue 
To aid Affection's dreaming eye. 

The wanderer seeks his native bower, 
And we will look and long for Thee, 

And thank Thee for each trying hour, 
Wishing, not struggling, to be free. 



8EYENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY 



Every man of the house of Israel that setteth up his idols in hif 
heart, and putteth the stumbling-block of his iniquity before his face, 
and cometh to the Prophet ;, I the Lord will answer him that cometl) 
accorCnsr to the multitude of his idols. — EzeJdel xiv. 4. 



Stately thy walls, and holy are the prayers, 
Which day and night before thine altars rise ; 

Not statelier, towering o'er her marble stairs, 
Flash'd Sion's gilded dome to summer skies. 

Not holier, while around him Angels bow'd, 

From Aaron's censer steam'd the spicy cloud. 

Before the mercy-seat. O Mother dear, 
Wilt thou forgive thy son one boding sigh ? 

Forgive, if round thy towers he walk in fearj 
And tell thy jewels o'er with jealous eye? 
23* ' 



270 SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITit. 

Mindful of that sad vision, which in thought* 
From Chebar's plains the captive propliet brought 

To see lost Sion's shame. 'Twas morning prime 
And like a Queen new seated on her throne, 

(tod's crowned mountain, as in happier time, 
Seem'd to rejoice in sunshine all her own : 

So bright, while ail in shade around her lay, 

Her northern pinnacles had caught th' emerging 
ray. 

The dazzling lines of her majestic roof 

Cross'd with as free a span the vault of Heaven, 

As when twelve tribes knelt silently aloof, 

Ere God His answer to their king had given ^, 

Ere yet upon the new-built altar fell 

The glory of the Lord, the Lord of Israel. 

A.11 seems the same : but enter in and see 
What idol shapes are on the wall portray 'd^ : 

And watch their shameless and unholy glee, 
Who worship there in Aaron's robes array'd : 

Hear Judah's maids the dirge to Thammuz pour*, 

A.nd mark her chiefs yon orient sun adore y. 

■ Ezekiel viii. 3. * 1 Kings viii. 5. w Ezekiel viii. 10. 

X Ezekiel viii. 11. V Ezekiel viii 16. 



i 



SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 271 

Yet turn thee, son of man — -for worse than these 
Thou must behold : thy loathing were but lost 

On dead men's crimes, and Jews' idolatries — 
Come, learn to tell aright thine own sins' cost,- 

And sure their sin as far from equals thine, 

As earthly hopes abused are less than hopes divine 

What if within His world, His church, our Lokd 
Have enter'd thee, as in some temple gate 

Where, looking round, each glance might thee afford 
Some glorious earnest of thine high estate, 

And thou, false heart and frail, hast turn'd from all, 

To worship pleasure's shadow on the wall ? 

If, when the Lord of glory was in sight. 

Thou turn thy back upon that fountain clear. 

To bow before the " little drop of light," 

Which dim-eyed men call praise and glory here 

What dost thou, but adore the sun, and scorn 

Him at whose only word both sun and stars were 
born ] 

If, while around thee gales from Eden breathe, 
Thou hide thine eyes, to make thy peevish moan 

Over some broken reed of earth beneath, 
Some darlmg of blind fancy dead and gone. 



272 SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTEK TRINITY. 

As wisely might'st thou in Jehovah's fane 
^iier thy love and tears to Thammuz slain. 

ji'iirn thee from these, or dare not to inquire 
Cf Him whose name is Jealous, lest in wrath 

He hear and answer thine unblest desire : 
Far better we should cross His lightning's path 

Than be according to our idols heard, 

And Ggi> should take us at our own vain word. 

'''hou who hast deign'd the Christian's heart to call 
Thy Church and Shrine : whene'er our rebel will 

^ Vould in that chosen home of Thine install 
Belial or Mammon, grant us not the ill 

'¥e blindly ask ; in very love refuse 

'Yhate'er Thou know'st our weakness would abuse. 

Or rather help us, Lord, to choose the good. 
To pray for nought, to seek to none, but Thee, 

N'or by " our daily bread" mean common food, 
Nor say, "From this world's evil set us free ;" 

Teach us to love, with Chbist, our sole true bliss, 

Else, though in Christ's own words, we surelj; 
pray amiss. 



EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY APTER TRINITY. 



I will bring you into the wilderness of the people, and there will 1 
plead with you face to face. Like as I pleaded with your fathers in 
the wilderness of the land of Egypt, so will I plead with you, saith 
the Lord God. — Ezekiel xx. 35, 36. 



It is so — ope thine eyes and see^ 
What view'st thou all around 1 

A desert, where iniquity 

And knowledge both abound. 

In the waste howling wilderness 

The Church is wandering still z, 

Because we would not onward press 
When close to Sion's hill. 

Back to the world we faithless turn'd, 
And far along the wild, 

With labour lost, and sorrow eamMj 
Our steps have been beguiled. 

z Revelaiions xii. 14 

S 



274 EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Yet full before us, all the while. 
The shadowing pillar stays, 

The living waters brightly smile, 
Th' eternal turrets blaze. 

Yet Heaven is raining Angels' bread 

To be our daily food, 
And fresh, as when it first was shed, 

Springs forth the Saviour's bloocL 

From every region, race, and speech, 
Believing myriads throng. 

Till, far as sin and sorrow reach, 
Thy grace is spread along ; 

Till sweetest nature, brightest art, 
Their votive incense bring, 

And every voice and every heart 
Own Thee their God and King, 

All own ; but few, alas ! will love ; 

Too like the recreant band 
That with Thy patient Spirit strove 

Upon the Red-sea strand. 



EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TEINITI' . 275 

O Father of long-suffering grace, 

Thou who hast sworn to stay- 
Pleading with sinners face to face 

Through all their devious way ; 

How shall we speak to Thee, O LorDj 

Or how in silence lie ] 
Look on us, and we are abhorr'd. 

Turn from us, and we die. 

Thy guardian fire. Thy guiding clouds 

Still let them gild our wall. 
Nor be our foes and Thine allow'd 

To see us faint and fall. 

Too oft, within this camp of Thine, 

Rebellious murmurs rise ; 
Sin cannot bear to see Thee shine 

81 rwful to her eyes. 

Fain would our lawless hearts escape^ 

And with the heathen be, 
To worship every monstrous shape 

In fancied darkness free. 



276 EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTEK TRlNITy, 

Vain thought, that shall not be at all^! 

Refuse we or obey, 
Our ears have heard th' Almighty's calls 

We cannot be as they. 

We cannot hope the heathen's doom 
To whom God's Son is given, 

Whose eyes have seen beyond the tomb, 
Who have the key of Heaven. 

Weak tremblers on the edge of woe, 
Yet shrinking from true bliss. 

Our rest must be "no rest below," 
And let our prayer be this : 

" Lord, wave again Thy chastening rod, 

" Till every idle throne 
" Grumble to dust, and Thou, O God, 

" Reign in our hearts alone. 

" Bring all our wandering fancies home, 
" For Thou hast every spell. 



1 Thai which cometli into your mind shall not be at a!!, that ye say. 
We Avill be as the heathen, as the families of the countries, to serve 
wood and stone, — Ezekiel xx. J!2. 



EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTEK TRINITY. 277 

** A nd 'mid the heathen where they roam, 
" Thou knowest, Lord, too well. 

" Thou know'st our service sad and hard, 
" Thou know'st us fond and frail ; 

" Win us to be beloved and spared 
" When all the world shall fail. 

" So when at last our weary days 

" Are well-nigh wasted here, 
" And we can trace Thy wondrous ways 

" In distance calm and clear, 

" When in Thy Love and Israel's sin, 

" We read our story true, 
" We may not, all too late, begin 

" To v/ish our hopes were new : 

** Long loved, long tried, long spared as they, 

" Unlike in this alone, 
" That, by Thy grace, our hearts shall stay 

" For evermore Thine own." 



24 



NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 



Then Nebuchadnezzar the king was astonied. and rose up in 
haste, and spake, and said unto his counsellors, Did not we cast three 
men bound into the midst of the fire ? They answered and said unto 
the king, True, O king. He answered and said, Lo, I see four men 
loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt : and 
the form of the fourth is like the Son of God. — Daniel iii. 24, 25. 



When Persecution's torrent blaze 

Wraps the unshrinking Martyr's head, 

When fade all earthly flowers and bays, 
When summer friends are gone and fled, 

Is he alone in that dark hour 

Who owns the Lord of love and power 1 

Or waves there not around his brow 
A wand no human arm may wield, 

Fraught with a spell no Angels know. 
His steps to guide, his soul to shield ? 



^'I^'ETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 279 

Thou, Saviour, art His Charmed Bower, 
His Magic Ring, His Rock, His Tower. 

And when the wicked ones behold 
Thy favourites walking in Thy light. 

Just as, in fancied triumph bold, 

They deem'd them lost in deadly night, 

Amazed they cry, " What spell is this, 

" Which turns their sufferings all to bliss ? 

" How are they free whom we had bound, 
" Upright whom in the gulf we cast ? 

" What wondrous helper have they found 
" To screen them from the scorching blast? 

" Three were they — who hath made them four 1 

" And sure a form divine He wore, 

« Even like the Son of God." So cried 
The tyrant, when in one fierce flame 

The Martyrs lived, the murderers died: 
Yet knew he not what Angel came 

To make the rushing fire-flood seem 

Like summer breeze by woodland stream^. 

*> A? It had been a moist whistling wind. — Song of the Three Children, 
rer. 97. 



2S0 NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

11(3 knew not, but there are who know: 
The Matron, who alone hath stood, 

When not a prop seem'd left below, 
The first lorn hour of widowhood, 

Yet cheer'd and cheering all, the while, 

With sad but unaffected smile ; — 



The father, who his vigil keeps 

By the sad couch whence hope had flowrij 
Watching the eye where reason sleeps, 

Yet in his heart can mercy own, 
Still sweetly yielding to the rod. 
Still loving man, still thanking God ;— » 

The Christian Pastor, bow'd to earth 
With thankless toil, and vile esteem'd, 

Still travailing in second birth 

Of souls that will not be redeem'd. 

Yet steadfast set to do his part, 

And fearing most his own vain heart ; — 

These know : on these look long and well. 
Cleansing thy sight by prayer and faith. 



mKETEENTH StjNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 281 

And thou shalt know what secret spell 
Preserves them in their living death : 
Through sevenfold flames thine eye shall see 
The Saviour walking with His faithful Three. 



TWENTIETH SUNDAY APTER TRINITY. '\ 



Hear ye, O mountains, the Lord's controversy, and ye strong foanda- 
lions of the earth. — Micah vi. 2. , 



Wheke is Thy favour'd haunt, eternal Voice, 

The region of Thy choice, 
Where undisturb'd by sin and earth, the soul 

Owns Thy entire control 1 — 
'Tis on the mountain's summit dark and high, 

When storms are hurrying by : 
'Tis 'mid the strong foundations of the earth, 

Where torrents have their birth. 

No sounds of worldly toil ascending there, 

Mar the full burst of prayer ; 
Lone Nature feels that she may freely breathe. 

And round us and beneath 
Are heard her sacred tones : the fitful sweep 

Of winds across the steep, 
Through wither'd bents — romantic note and cleai, 

Meet for a hermit's ear, — 



TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 283 

The wheeling kite's wild solitary cry, 

And, scarcely heard so high, 
The dashing waters when the air is still. 

From many a torrent rill 
That winds unseen beneath the shaggy fell, 

Track'd by the blue mist well : 
Such sounds as make deep silence in the heart, 

For Thought to do her part. 

'Tis then we hear the voice of God within, 

Pleading with care and sin ; 
" Child of My love ! how have I wearied thee 1 

" Why wilt thou err from Me 1 
" Have I not brought thee from the house of slaves ; 

" Parted the drowning waves, 
" And set My saints before thee in the way, 

" Lest thou should'st faint or stray ? 

" What ? was the promise made to thee alone ? 

" Art thou th' excepted one 1 
" An heir of glory without grief or pain ? 

" O vision false and vain ! 
* There lies thy cross .; beneath it meekly bow , 

" It fits thy stature now : 



2H4> TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY 'i 

*' Who scornful pass it with averted eye, 
" 'Twill crush them by and by. 

" Raise thy repining eyes, and take true measure 

" Of thine eternal treasure ; 
" The Father of thy Lord can grudge thee nought, 

" The world for thee was bought, 
"And as this landscape broad — earth, sea, and 
" sky,— 

" All centres in thine eye, , 

** So all God does, if rightly understood, 

** Shall work thy final goode" 



TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY 



The vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, 
and not lie : though it tarry, wait for it ; because it will surely come, 
It will not tarry. — Hahahkuh ii. 3. 



The morning mist is clear'd away, 

Yet still the face of Heaven is gray, 
Nor yet th' autumnal breeze has stirr'd the grove, 

Faded yet full, a paler green 

Skirts soberly the tranquil scene, 
The red-breast warbles round this leafy cove. 

Sweet messenger of " calm decay," 

Saluting sorrow as you may, 
As one still bent to find or make the best, 

In thee, and in this quiet mead 

The lesson of sweet pecice I read, 
Rather in all to be resign'd than blest. 



286 TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

'Tis a low chant, according well 

With the soft solitary knell, 
As homeward from some grave beloved we turn, 

Or by some holy death-bed dear, 

Most welcome to the chasten'd ear 
O^ her whom Heaven is teaching how to mourn. 

O cheerful tender strain ! the heart 

That duly bears with you its part. 
Singing so thankful to the dreary blast, 

Though gone and spent its joyous prime. 

And on the world's autumnal time, 
'Mid wither'd hues and sere, its lot be cast : 

That is the heart for thoughtful seer, 

Watching in trance nor dark nor clear®, 
Th' appalling Future as it nearer draws : 

His spirit calm'd the storm to meet. 

Feeling the rock beneath his feet, 
And tracing through the cloud th' eternal Cause. 

That is the heart for watchman true 
Waiting to see what God will do. 
As o'er the Church the gathermg twilight falls : 

c It shall come lo pass in that day, that the light shall not be c'ear 
nor dark. — Zechariak xiv. 6. 



TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 287 

No more lie strains his wistful eye, 
If chance the golden hours be nigh, 
By youthful Hope seen beaming round her walls. 

Forced from his shadowy paradise, 

His thoughts to Heaven the steadier rise : 
There seek his answer when the world reproves : 

Contented in his darkling round, 

If only he be faithful found. 
When from the east th' eternal morning moves^ 

1 

Note : The expression " calm cZecory," is borroroed from a friend . b% .? 

whose Mild ^permission the following stmizas are here inserted. 

TO THE RED-BREAST. 

Unheard in summer's flaring ray, 

Pour forth thy notes, sweet singer, 
Wooing the stillness of the autumn day: 

Bid it a moment linger, 
Nor fly 
Too soon from winter's scowling eye. 

The blackbird's song at eventide, 

And hers, who gay ascends, 
Filling the heavens far and wide, 

Are sweet. But none so blends, 
As tliine, 
With calm decay, and peace divine. 



TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER 
TRINITY. 



Lord, how oft shall ray brother sin against me, and I forgive him 1 

St. Matthew xviii. 21. 



What liberty so glad and gay, 
As where, the mountain boy, 

Reckless of regions far away, 
A prisoner lives in joy '/ 

The dreary sounds of crowded earth, 
The cries of camp or town, 

Never untuned his lonely mirth, 
Nor drew his visions down. 

The snow-clad peaks of rosy light. 
That meet his morning view, 

The thwarting cliffs that bound his sight, 
They bound his fancy too. 



TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TlilNlTY. 289 

Two ways alone his roving eye 

For aye may onward go, 
Or in the azure deep on high, 

Or darksome mere beloWc 



O blest restraint ! more blessed range I 

Too soon the happy child 
His nook of homely thought will change 

For life's seducing wild : 

Too soon his alter'd day-dreams show 
This earth a boundless space. 

With sun-bright pleasures to and fro 
Sporting in joyous race : 

While of his narrowing heart each year. 

Heaven less and less will fill, 
Less keenly, through his grosser ear, 

The tones of mercy thrill. 

It must be so : else wherefore falls 

The Saviour's voice unheard. 

While from His pardoning Cross He calls 

" spare as I have spared V , 
25 T 



200 TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

By our own niggard rule we try 
The hope to suppliants given ; 

We mete our love, as if our eye 
Saw to the end of Heaven. 



Yes, ransom'd sinner ! would'st thou know 

How often to forgive, 
How dearly to embrace thy foe, 

Look where thou hop'st to live : 

When thou hast told those isles of light, 

And fancied all beyond. 
Whatever owns, in depth or height, 

Creation's wondrous bond : 

Then in their solemn pageant learn 
Sweet mercy's praise to see : 

Their Lord resign'd them all, to earn 
The bliss of pardoning thee. 



TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITI 



Wlio shall change our vile body that it may be fashioned like untc 
His glorious body, according to the working whereby He is able even 
to subdue all things unto Himself. — Philippians iii. 21. 



Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun, 
The line of yellow light dies fast away 

That crown'd the eastern copse : and chill and dun 
Falls on the moor the brief November day. 

Now the tired hunter winds a parting note, 
And echo bids good night from every glade ; 

Yet wait awhile, and see the calm leaves float 
Each to his rest beneath their parent shade. 

How like decaying life they seem to glide ! 

And yet no second spring have they in storej 
But where they fall, forgotten to abide, 

Is all their portion, and they ask no more. 



292 TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

Soon o'er their heads blithe April airs shall sing, 
A thousand wild-flowers round them shall unfold, 

The green buds glisten in the dews of Spring, 
And all be vernal rapture as of old. 

Unconscious they in waste oblivion lie, 

In all the world of busy life around 
No thought of them ; in all the bounteous sky 

No drop, for them, of kindly influence found. 

Man's portion is to die and rise agam — 

Yet he complains, while these unmurmuring pan 

With their sweet lives, as pure from sin and stain, 
As his when Eden held his virgin heart. 

And haply half unblamed his murmuring voice 
Might sound in Heaven, were all his second life 

Only the first renew'd — the heathen's choice, 
A round of listless joy and weary strife. 

For dreary were this earth, if earth were all, 

Though brighten'd oft by dear Affection's kiss ;■— 

Who for the spangles wears the funeral pall ? 
But catch a gleam beyond it, and 'tis bliss. 



TWE]\TY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TKINITY. 29 rS 

Heavy and dull this frame of limbs and heart, 
Whether slow creeping on cold earth, or borno 

On lofty steed, or loftier prow, we dart 

O'er wave or field : yet breezes laugh to scorn 

Our puny speed, and birds, and clouds in heaven, 
And fish, like living shafts that pierce the main, 

And stars that shoot through freezing air at even — 
Who but would follow, might he break his chain ? 

Ant I thou shalt break it soon ; the grovelling worm 
Shall find his wings, and soar as fast and free 

As his transfigured Lord with lightning form 
And snowy vest — such grace He won for thee, 

When from the grave He sprung at dawn of morn. 
And led through boundless air thy conquering road 

Leaving a glorious track, where saints, new-born, 
Might fearless follow to their blest abode. 

But first, by many a stern and fiery blast 
The world's rude furnace must thy blood refine, 

And many a gale of keenest woe be passM, 
Till every pulse beat true to airs divine, 
25* 



2^4 TWENTY-THIRD SUjSTDAY AFTER TRTNIT7, 

Till every limb obey the mounting soul, 

The mounting soul, the call by Jesus given. 

He who the stormy heart can so control, 
The laggard body soon will waft to Heaven, 



TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTEE 
TRINITY. 



The heart knoweth his own bitterness; and a stranger doih not 
intermeddle with his joy.— -Proverbs xiv. 10, 



Why should we faint and fear to live alone, 
Since all alone, so Heaven has wiil'd, we died^, 

Nor even the tenderest heart, and next our own, 
Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh ? 

Each in his hidden sphere of joy or woe 
Our hermit spirits dwell, and range apart. 

Our eyes see all around in gloom or glow — 

Hues of their own, fresh borrow'd from the heart. 

And well it is for us our God should feel 
Alone our secret throbbings : so our prayer 

May readier spring to Heaven, nor spend its zeal 
On cloud-born idols of this lower air. 

* Je mourrai seul. — Pascat. 



296 TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

For if one heart in perfect sympathy 

Beat with another, answering love for love, 

Weak mortals, all entranced, on earth would lie, 
Nor listen for those purer strains above. 

Or what if Heaven for once its searching light 
Lent to some partial eye, disclosing all 

The rude bad thoughts, that in our bosom's night 
Wander at large, nor heed Love's gentle thrall ? 

Who would not slum the dreary uncouth place? 

As if, fond leaning where her infant slept, 
A mother's arm a serpent should embrace : 

So might we friendless live, and die unwept. 

Then keep the softening veil in mercy drawn, 
Thou who canst love us, though Thou read us 
true. 

As on the bosom of th' aerial lawn 

Melts in dim haze each coarse ungentle hue. 

So too may soothing Hope Thy leave enjoy 
Sweet visions of long sever'd hearts to frame ; 

Though absence may impair, or cares annoy, 
Some constant mind may draw us still the same. 



TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 297 

We m dark dreams are tossing to and fro, 
Pine with regret, or sicken with despair. 

The while she bathes us in her own chaste glow. 
And with our memory wings her own fond prayer. 

O bliss of child-like innocence, and love 
Tried to old age ! creative power to win. 

And raise new worlds, where happy fancies rove, 
Forgetting quite this grosser world of sii]. 

Bright are their dreams, because their thoughts are 
clear. 
Their memory cheering: but th' earth-stain'd 
spright, 
Whose wakeful musings are of guilt and fear, 
Must hover nearer earth, and less in light. 

Farewell, for her, th' ideal scen"es so fair — 

Yet not farewell her hope, since Thou hast deign'd, 

Creator of all hearts ! to own and share 

The woe of what Thou mad'st,and wehave stain'd. 

Thou know'st our bitterness — our joys are Thine ^— ' 
No stranger Thou to all our wanderings wild : 

» Thou hast known my soul in adversities.— P5a/;?i xxxi. 7- 



298 TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Nor could we bear to think, how every line 
Of us, Thy darken'd likeness and defil'd, 

Stands in full sunshine of Thy piercing eye, 
But that Thou call'st us Brethren : sweet repose 

Is in that word — the Lord who dwells on high 
Knows all, yet loves us better than He knows. 



TWENTY-FIETH SUNDAY AETER TRINITY. 



The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of 
righteousness. — Proverbs xvi. 31. 



The bright-hair'd morn is glowing 

O'er emerald meadows gay, 
With many a clear gem strowing 

The early shepherd's way. 
Ye gentle elves, by Fancy seen 

Stealing away with night 
To slumber in your leafy screen, 

Tread more than airy light. 

And see what joyous greeting 

The sun through heaven has shed, 

Though fast yon shower be fleeting, 
His beams have faster sped. 



300 TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

For lo ! above the western haze 
High towers the rainbow arch 

In solid span of purest rays ; 
How stately is its march ! 

Pride of the dewy morning ! 

The swain's experienced eye 
From thee takes timely warning, 

Nor trusts the gorgeous sky. 
For well he know^s, such dawnings gay 

Bring noons of storm and shower. 
And travellers linger on the way 

Beside the shelterinsi: bower. 

Even so, in hope and trembling 

Should watchful shepherd view 
His little lambs assembling, 

With glance both kind and true ; 
'Tis not the eye of keenest blaze, 

Nor the quick-swelling breast, 
That soonest thrills at touch of praise — 

These do not please Iiim best. 

But voices low and gentle, 
And timid glancec shy, 



TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TKINITiT. 301 

That seem for aid parental 

To sue all wistfully, 
Still pressing, longing to be rightj 

Yet fearing to be wrong — 
In tliese the Pastor dares delightj 

A lamb-like. Christ-like throng. 

These m Life's distant even 

Shall shine serenely bright, 
As in th' autumnal heaven 

Mild rainbow tints at night. 
When the last shower is stealing down, 

And ere they sink to rest, 
The sun-beams weave a parting crowa 

For some sweet woodland nest. 

The promise of the morrow 

Is glorious on that eve. 
Dear as the holy sorrow 

When good men cease to live. 
When brightening ere it die away 

Mounts up their altar flame, 
Still tending with intenser ray 

To Heaven whence first it came. 
26 



302 TWENTY -FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITF, 



Say not it dies, that glory, 

'Tis caught unquench'd on high ; 
Those saint-like brows so hoary 

Shall wear it in the sky. 
No smile is like the smile of death, 

When all good musings past 
Rise wafted with the parting breath. 

The sweetest thought the last* 



SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADYENT. 



Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost. 

St. John vi. 12 



Will God indeed with fragments bear, 
Snatch'd late from the decaying year? 
Or can the Saviour's blood endear 
The dregs of a polluted life 1 
When down th' o'erwhelming current tost, 
Just ere he sink for ever lost. 
The sailor's untried arms are cross'd 
[n agonizing prayer, will Ocean cease her strife I 

Sighs that exhaust but not relieve 
Heart-rending sighs, O spare to heave 
A bosom freshly taught to grieve 

For lavish'd hours and love misspent ' 
Now through her round of holy thought 
The Church our annual steps has brought, 
But we no holy fire have caught — 
Back on the gaudy world our wilful eyes were bent 



304j SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADVENT. 

Too soon th' ODnobling carols, poui-'d 
To hymn the birth-night of the Lord, 
Which duteous memory should have stored 

For thankful echoing all the year — 
Too soon those airs have pass'd away ; 
Nor long within the heart would stay 
The silence of Christ's dying day, 
Profaned by worldly mirth, or scared by worldl) 
fear. 

Some strain of hope and victory 
On Easter wings might lift us high : 
A little while we sought the sky : 

And when the Spirit's beacon fires 
On every hill began to blaze, 
Lightening the world with glad amaze, 
Who but must kindle while they gaze? 
But faster than she soars, our earth-bound Fancji 
tires. 

Not yet for these, nor all the rites 
By which our Mother's voice invites 
Our God to bless our home delights. 

And sweeten every secret tear : — 
The funeral dirge, the marriage vow, 
The hallow'd font where parents bow, 



SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADVENT. 305 

And now elate and trembling now 
To the Redeemer's [eet their new-found treasures 
bear : — 

Not for the Pastor's gracious arm 
Stretch'd out to bless — a Christian charm 
To dull the shafts of worldly harm : — 
Nor, sweetest, holiest, best of all, 
For the dear feast of Jesus dying, 
Upon that altar ever lying, 
Where souls with sacred hunger sighing 
Are call'd to sit and eat, while Angels prostrate 
fall :— 

No, not for each and all of these, 
Have our frail spirits found their ease. 
The gale that stirs th' autumnal trees 

Seems tuned as truly to our hearts 
As when, twelve weary months ago, 
'Twas moaning bleak, so high and low. 
You would have thought Remorse and Woe 
Had taught the innocent air their sadly thrilling pa: ih. 

Is it, Christ's light is too divine. 
We dare not hope like Him to shine ? 
But see, around His dazzling shrine 
26* u 



306 SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADVENT. 

Earth's gems the fire of Heaven have caughl , 
Martyrs and saints — each glorious day 
Dawning in order on our way — 
Remind us, how our darksome clay 
May keep th' ethereal warmth our new Creator 
brought. 

These we have scorn'd, O false and frail ! 
And now once more th' appalling tale, 
How love divine may woo and fail. 

Of our lost year in Heaven is told — 
What if as far our life were past, 
Our weeks all number'd to the last. 
With time and hope behind us cast, 
And all our work to do with palsied hands and cold! 

O watch and pray ere Advent dawn ! 
For thinner than the subtlest lawn 
'Twixt thee and death the veil is drawn. 

But love too late can never glow : 
The scatter'd fragments Love can glean, 
Refine the dregs, and yield us clean 
To regions where one thouo;ht serene 
Breathes sweeter than whole years of sacrifice 
below. 



ST. ANDREW'S DAY. 



He first iindeth his own brother Simon, and saith unto hini, We have 
found the Messias . . . And he brought him to Jesus.— Sf. John 1.41. 42. 



When brothers part for manhood's race, 
What gift may most endearing prove 

To keep fond memory in her place, 
And certify a brother's love 1 

'Tis true, bright hours together told, 
And blissful dreams in secret shared, 

Serene or solemn, gay or bold. 
Shall last in fancy unimpair'd. 

Even round the death-bed of the good 
Such dear remembrances will hover, 

And haunt us vi^ith no vexing mood 
When all the cares of earth are over- 



308 ST. ANDREW'S DAY. 

But yet our craving spirits feel. 

We shall live on, though Fancy die, 

And seek a surer pledge — a seal 
Of love to last eternally. 

Who art thou, that would'st grave thy name 
Thus deeply in a brother's heart 1 

Look on this saint, and learn to frame 
Thy love-charm with true Christian art. 

First seek thy Saviour out, and dwell 
Beneath the shadow of His roof. 

Till thou have scann'd His features well. 
And known Him for the Christ by proof; 

Such proof as they are sure to find, 
Who spend with Him their happy days, 

Clean hands, and a self-ruling mind 
Ever in tune for love and praise. 

Then, potent with the spell of Heaven, 
Go, and thine erring brother gain, 

Entice him home to be forgiven, 
Till he, too, see his Saviour plain. 



ST. AWBKEW'S DAY. 309 

Or, if before thee in the race, 

Urge him with thine advancing tread, 
Till, like twin stars, with even pace. 

Each lucid course be duly sped. 

I 

No fading frail memorial give 

To soothe his soul when thou art gone, 

But wreaths of hope for aye to live, 
And thoughts of good together done. 

That so, before the judgment-seat 

Though changed and glorified each faca, 

Not unremember'd ye may meet 
For endless ages to embrace. 




ST. THOMAS' DAY. 



Thomas, because thou hast seen Me, thou hast believed ; blessed are 
they that have not seen, and yet have believed. — Si. John xx. 29 



We were not by when Jesus camef, 

But round us, far and near, 
We see His trophies, and His name 

In choral echoes hear. 
In a fair ground our lot is cast, 
As in the solemn week that pass'd. 
While some might doubt, but all adored?, 
Ere the whole widow'd Church had seen her risen 

Lord. 

Slowly, as then. His bounteous hand 
The golden chain unwinds, 

f Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, vras not with them 
when Jesus came. — St. John xx. 24. 

g When they saw Him, they worshipped Him : but some doubled — 
St. Matt, xxviii. 37. 



ST. THOMAs' DAY. 311 

Drawing to Heaven with gentlest band 

Wise hearts and loving minds. 
Love sought Him first — at dawn of morn^ 
From her sad couch she sprang forlorn, 
She sought to weep with Thee alone, 
And saw Thine open grave, and knew that Thou 

wert gone. 



Reason and Faith at once set outi 
To search the Saviour's tomb ; 
Faith faster runs, but waits without. 

As fearing to presume, 
Till Reason enter in, and trace 
Christ's relics round the holy place — 
" Here lay His limbs, and here His sacred head. 
" And who was by, to make His new-forsaken bed ?" 



Both wonder, one believes — but while 
They muse on all at home, 

No thought can tender Love beguile 
From Jesus' grave to roam. 



<» St. Mary Magdalene's visit to the sepnlc".-?-, 
I St. Peter and St. Jolin 



312 St. THOMAS' DAY. 

Weeping she stays till He appear — 
Her witness first the Church must hear-- 
All joy to souls that can rejoice 
With her at earliest call of His dear gracious voice. 



I 



Joy too to those, who love to talk 

In secret how He died, 
Though with seal'd eyes awhile they walk, 

Nor see Him at their side ; 
Most like the faithful pair are they, 
Who once to Emmaus took their way. 
Half darkling, till their Master shed 
His glory on their souls, made known in breaking 
bread. 



Thus, ever brighter and more bright. 

On those He came to save 
The Lord of new-created light 

Dawn'd gradual from the grave j 
Till pass'd th' inquiring daylight hour, 
And with closed door in silent bowsr. 
The Church in anxious musing sate, 
As 0'>e who for redemption still had long to wait. 



ST. THOMAS' DAY. 



313 



Then, gliding through th' unopening door, 

Smooth without step or sound, 
" Peace to your souls," He said — no more — 

They own Him, kneeling round. 
Eye, ear, and hand, and loving heart, 
Body and soul in every part. 
Successive made His witnesses that hour, 
Cease not in all the world to shew His saving powej 

Is there, on earth, a spirit frail 

Who fears to take their word. 
Scarce daring, through the twilight pale, 

To think he sees the Lord'? 
With eyes too tremblingly awake 
To bear with dimness for His sake ? 
Read and confess the Hand Divine 
That drew thy likeness here so true m every hue 

For all thy rankling doubts so sore, 

Love thou thy Saviour still. 
Him for thy Lord and God adore, 

And ever do His will. 
Though vexing thoughts may seem to last, 
Let not thy soul be quite o'ercast ; — 
27 



314 ST. THOMAS' DAY. 

Soon will He shew thee all His wounds, mA say, 
"Long have I known thy name^ — know thou My 
" face alway." 

^ In Exodus xxxiii. 17, God says to Moses, " I know thee by name ;" 
meaning, *' I bear especial favour towards thee." Thus our Saviour 
speaks to St. Thomas by name in the place here referred t© 



THE CONVERSION OE ST. PAUL. 



And he fell to the earth, and heaid a voice saying unto him, Saul, 
Saul, why peraecutest thou Me ? And he said, Who art thou, Lord 1 
And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. — Acts ix. 4, 5. 



The midday sudj with fiercest glare. 
Broods o'er the hazy, twinkling air ; 

Along the level sand 
The palm-tree's shade unwavering lies, 
Just as thy towers, Damascus, rise 

To greet yon wearied band. 

The leader of that martial crew 
Seems bent some mighty deed to do, 

So steadily he speeds. 
With lips firm closed and fixed eye, 
Like warrior when the fight is nigh, 

Nor talk nor landscape heeds. 



316 THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 

What sudden blaze is round him pour'dj 
As though all Heaven's refulgent hoard 

In one rich glory shone? 
One moment — and to earth he falls ; 
What voice his inmost heart appals 1 — - 

Voice heard by him alone. 

For to the rest both words and form 
Seem lost in lightning and in storm, 

While Saul in wakeful trance, 
Sees deep within that dazzling field 
His persecuted Lord reveal'd 

With keen yet pitying glance : 

And hears the meek upbraiding call 
As gently on his spirit fall, 

As if th' Almighty Son 
Were prisoner yet in this dark earth, 
Nor had proclaim'd His royal birth. 

Nor His great power begun. 

" Ah ! wherefore persecut'st thou Me ?" 
He heard and saw, and sought to free 
His strain'd eye from the sight : 



# 



THE COJNVEESION OF ST. PAUL. 317 

But Heaven's high magic bound it there. 
Still gazing, though untaught to bear 
Th' insufferable light. 

" Who art Thou, Lord?" he falters forth :— 
So shall Sin ask of heaven and earth 

At the last awful day. 
" When did we see Thee suffering nigh^, 
"And pass'd Thee with unheeding eye 7 

" Great God of judgment, say !" 

Ah ! little dream our listless eyes 
What glorious presence they despise 

While, in our noon of life. 
To power or fame we rudely press. — 
Christ is at hand, to scorn or bless, 

Christ suffers in our strife. 

And though heaven gate long since have closed, 
And our dear Lord in bliss reposed. 

High above mortal ken. 
To every ear in every land 
(Though meek ears only understand) 

He speaks as He did tjien. 

1 St. Matthew xxv. 44. 
27* 



318 THE CONVERSION OF ST. FAVIc 

* Ah ! wherefore persecute ye Me ] 
' 'Tis hard, ye so in love should be 

" With your own endless woe. 

* Know, though at God's right hand i live 
' I feel each wound ye reckless give 

" To the least saint below. 

' I in your care My brethren left, 

* Not willing ye should be bereft 
" Of waiting on your Lord, 

' The meanest offering ye can make- - 
' A drop of water — for love's sake™" 
" In Heaven, be sure, is stored. 

O by those gentle tones and dear. 
When Thou hast stay'd our wild ca/ *.r, 

Thou only hope of souls, 
Ne'er let us cast one look behind. 
But in the thought of Jesus find 

What every thought controls. 

As to Thy last Apostle's heart 
Thy lightning glance did then imparl 
Zeal's never-dying fire, 

» St. Matthew x. 42. 



THE CONVERSION OF ST. PATJL. 319 

So teach us on .Thy shrine to lay 
Our hearts, and let them day by day 
Intenser blaze and higher. 

And as each mild and winning note 
(Like pulses that round harp-strings float 

When the full strain is o'er) 
Left lingering on his inward ear 
Music, that taught, as death drew near, 

Love's lesson more and more : 

So, as we walk our earthly round, 
Still may the echo of that sound 

Be in our memory stored : 
" Christians, behold your happy state ; 
" Christ is in these, who round you wait 

" Make much of your dear Lord ! 



THE PURIFICATION. 



Blessed are the pure in heart : for they shall see God 

St. Matthew v. 8. 



Bless'd are the pure in heart, 
For they shall see our God, 
The secret of the Lord is theirs. 
Their soul is Christ's abode. 

Might mortal thought presume 
To guess an Angel's lay, 
Such are the notes that echo through 
The courts of Heaven to-day. 

Such the triumphal hymns 
On Sion's Prince that wait, 
In high procession passing on 
Towards His temple-gate. 



THE PURIFICATIOK. 321 

Give ear, ye kings — bow down, 
Ye rulers of the earth — 
This, this is He ; your priest by grace^ 
Your God and King by birth. 

No pomp of earthly guards 
Attends with sword and spearj 
And all-defying, dauntless look. 

Their monarch's way to cleai » 

Yet are there more with Him 

Than all that are with you— 

The armies of the highest Heaven 

All righteous, good, and true. 

Spotless their robes and pure 
Dipp'd in the sea of light, 
That hides the unapproached shrine 
From men's and Angels' sight. 

His throne, thy bosom blest 

O Mother, undefiled 

That throne, if aught beneath the skieSj 
Beseems the sinless child. 




322 THE rURIFICATION. 

Lost in high thoughts, " whose son 
" The wondrous Babe might prove. 
Her guileless husband walks beside, 
*" Bearing the hallowM dove ; 

Meet emblem of His vow, 
Who, on this happy day, 
His dove-like soul — best sacrifice- 
Did on God's altar lay. 



But who is he, by years t 

Bow'd, but erect in heart, 1 

Whose prayers are struggling with his tears ! \ 
" Lord, let me now depart. 

" Now hath Thy servant seen ' 
" Thy saving health, O Lord ; 

** 'Tis time that I depart in peace, j 

" According to Thy word." i 

Yet swells the pomp : one more 
Comes forth to bless her God : 
Full fourscore years, meek widow, she 
Her heaven-ward way hath trod. 



THE PURIFICATIOPf. 823 

She who to earthly joys 
So long had given farewell, 
Now sees, unlook'd for, Heaven on earth, 
Christ in His Israel. 

Wide open from that hour 
The temple-gates are set, 
And still the saints rejoicing there 
The holy Child have met. 

Now count His train to-day, 
And who may meet Him, learn ; 
Him child-like sires, meek maidens find 
Where pride can nought discern. 

Still to the lowly soul 
He doth Himself impart, 
And for His cradle and His throne 
Chooseth the pure in heart. 



ST. MATTHIAS' DAY. 



Wherefore of these men which have companied with us all the time 
that the Lord Jesas went in and out among us, beginning from the 
baptism of John, unto that same day that He was taken up from us, 
must one be ordained to be a witness with us of His resurrection. 

Acts i. 21, 22. 



Who is God's chosen priest ? 
He, who on Christ stands waiting day and night, 
Who traced His holy steps, nor ever ceased, 

From Jordan banks to Bethphage height : 

Who hath learn'd lowliness 
From his Lord's cradle, patience from His Cross : 
Whom poor men's eyes and hearts consent tc bless ; 

To whom, for Christ, the world is loss ; 

Who both in agony 
Hath seen Him and in glory : and in both 
Own'd Him divine, and yielded, nothing loth 

Body and soul, to live and die, 



ST. MATTHIAS' DAY. 325 

In witness of his Lord, 
In humble following of his Saviour dear : 
This is the man to wield th' unearthly sword. 

Warring unharm'd with sin and fear. 

But who can e'er suflice — 
What mortal— for this more than AngePs task, 
Winning or losing souls, Thy life-blood's price? 

The gift were too divine to ask, 

But thou hast made it sure 
By Thy dear promise to Thy Church and Bride, 
That Thou, on earth, wouldst aye with her endure, 

Till earth to Heaven be purified. 

Thou art her only spouse. 
Whose arm supports her, on Whose faithful breast 
Her persecuted head she meekly bows. 

Sure pledge of her eternal rest. 

■ Thou, her unerring guide, 
Stayest her fainting steps along the wild; 
Thy mark is on the bowers of lust and pride. 
That she may pass them undefiled. 

28 



326 ST. MATTHIAS' DAY. 

Who then, uncall'd by Thee, 
Dare touch Thy spouser, Thy very self below? 
Or who dare count him summon'd worthily, 

Except. Thine hand and seal he show? 

Where can Thy seal be found, 
But on the chosen seed, from age to age 
By Thine anointed heralds duly crown'd, 

As kings and priests Thy war to wage 1 

Then fearless walk ye forth. 
Yet full of trembling, Messengers of God. 
Our warrant sure, but doubting of our worth, 

By our own shame alike and glory awed. 

Dread Searcher of the hearts, 
Thou who didst seal by Thy descending Dove 
Thy servant's choice, O help us m our parts. 

Else helpless found, to learn and teach Thy 
love. 



THE ANNUNCIATION OE THE BLESSEI 
VIRGIN MARY. 



And the Angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that &rt 
highly favoured, the Lord is with thee : blessed art thou airiong 
women. — St. Luke i. 28. 



O Thou who deign'st to sympathize 
With all our frail and fleshly ties, 

Maker yet Brother dear, 
Forgive the too presumptuous thought, 
If, calming wayward grief, I sought 

To gaze on Thee too near. 

Yet sure 'twas not presumption, Lord, 
'Twas Thine own comfortable word 

That made the lesson known : 
Of all the dearest bonds we prove. 
Thou countest sons' and mothers' love 

Most sacred, most Th'ne own. 



328 THE ANNUNCIATION. 

When wandering here a little span, 
Thou took'st on Thee to rescue man, 

Thou hadst no earthly sire : 
That wedded love we prize so dear, 
As if our heaven and home were here, 

It lit in Thee no fire. 

On no sweet sister's faithfiil breast 
Would'st Thou Thine aching forehead rest, 

On no kind brother lean ; 
But who, O perfect filial heart, 
E'er did like Thee a true son's part. 
Endearing, firm, serene? 

Thou wept'st, meek maiden, mother mild, 
Thou wept'st upon thy sinless Child, 

Thy very heart was riven : 
And yet, what mourning matron here 
Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear 

By all on this side Heaven? 

A Son that never did amiss. 
That never shamed His Mother's kiss, 
Nor cross'd her fondest prayer: 



THE ANNUNCIATION. 329 

Even from the tree He deign'd to bow 
For her His agonized brow, 

Her, His sole earthly care. 

Ave Maria ! blessed Maid ! 
'Lily of Eden's fragrant shade, 

Who can express the love 
That nurtured thee so pure and sweety 
Making thy heart a shelter meet 

For Jesus' holy Dove? 

Ave Maria ! Mother blest. 

To whom, caressing and caress'd. 

Clings the Eternal Child ,- 
Favour'd beyond Archangels' dream, 
When first on thee with tenderest gleam 

Thy new-born Saviour smiled :— 

Ave Maria ! thou whose name 
All but adoring love may claim, 

Yet may we reach thy shrine ; 
For He, thy Son and Saviour, vows 
To crown all lowly lofty broM^s 

With love and joy like thine. 
28* 



330 TUE ANNUNCIATION. 

Bless'd is the womb that bare Him — bless'd" 
The bosom where His lips were press'd, 

But rather bless'd are they 
Who hear His word and keep it well, 
The living homes where Christ shall dwell, 

And never pass away. 

B gt. Luke xi. 27, 99 



ST. MARK'S DAY. 



And tlie oontenlion was so sharp between them, that they departed 
asunder one from the other. — Acts xv. 39. 

Compare 2 Tim. iv. II. Take Mark, and bring him with thee: for 
be is profitable to me for the ministry. 



Oh I who shall dare in this frail scene 
On holiest happiest thoughts to lean, 

On Friendship, Kindred, or on Love 1 
Since not Apostles' hands can clasp 
Each other in so firm a grasp, 

But they shall change and variance prove 

Yet deem not, on such parting sad 
Shall dawn no welcome dear and glad : 

Divided in their earthly race, 
Together at the glorious goal, 
Each leading many a rescued soul, 

The faithful champions shall embrace. 



332 ST. MARK^S DAYo 

For even as those mysterious Four, 
Who the bright whirling wheels upbore 

By Chebar in the fiery blast'', 
So, on their tasks of love and praise 
The saints of God their several ways 

Right onward speed, yet join at last. 

And sometimes even beneath the moon 
The Saviour gives a gracious boon, 

When reconciled Christians meet. 
And face to face, and heart to heart, 
High thoughts of holy love impart 

In sil-Bnce meek, or converse sweet. 

Companion of the Saints ! 'twas thine 
To taste that drop of peace divine, 

When the great soldier of thy Lord 
Call'd thee to take his last farewell, 
Teaching the Church with joy to tell 

The story of your love restored. 

O then the glory and the bliss. 
When all that pain'd or seem'd amiss 

Shall melt with earth and sin away . 

They turned not when they went : they went every one straighf 
forward — Ezekiel i. 9. 



ST, MARK'S DAT. 3^3 

When saints beneath their Saviour's eye, 
Fill'd with each other's company, 

Shall spend in love th' eternal day I 



ST. PHILIP AND ST. JAMES 



Let the brother of low degree rejoice in that he is exalted ; but tho 
rich in that he is made low. — St. James i. 9, 10. 



Dear is the morning gale of spring, 
And dear th' autumnal eve ; 

But few delights can summer bring 
A Poet's crown to weave. 



Her bowers are mute, her fountains dry. 

And ever Fancy's wing 
Speeds from beneath her cloudless sky, 

To autumn or to spring. 

Sweet is the infant's waking «5mile, 

And sweet the old man's rest- 
But middle age by no fond wile, 
No sooth in^jf calm is blest. 



ST. PHILIP AND ST. JAMES. 335 

Still in the world's hot restless gleam 

She plies her weary task, 
While vainly for some pleasant dream 

Her wandering glances ask. — 

O shame upon thee, listless heart. 

So sad a sigh to heave, 
As if thy Saviour had no part 

In thoughts, that make thee grieve. 

As if along His lonesome way 

He had not borne for thee 
Sad languors through the summer day, 

Storms on the wintry sea. 

Youth's lightning-flash of joy secure 
Pass'd seldom o'er His spright,- — 

A well of serious thought and pure. 
Too deep for earthly light. 

No spring was His, — no fairy gleam— 

For He by trial knew 
How cold and bare what mortals dream. 

To worlds where all is true. 



336 ST. PHILIP AND ST. JAMKS. 

Then grudge not thou the anguish keen 
Which makes thee like thy Lord, 

And learn to quit with eye serene 
Thy youth's ideal hoard. 

Thy treasured hopes and raptures high- 
Unmurmuring let them go, 

Nor grieve the bliss should quickly fly 
Which Christ disdain'd to know. 

Thou shalt have joy in sadness soon ; 

The pure, calm hope be thine. 
Which brightens, like the eastern moon 

As day's wild nights decline. 

Thus souls by nature pitch'd too high, 
By sufferings plunged too low, 

Meet in the Church's middle sky. 
Half way 'twixt joy and woe, 

To practise there the soothing lay 
That sorrow best relieves : 

Thankful for all God takes away, 
Humbled by all He gives. 



ST. BARNABAS. 

The son of consolation, a Levite. — Acts iv. 36, 

The world's a room of sickness, where each heart 

Knows its own anguish and unrest ! 
The truest wisdom there, and noblest art, 

Is his, who skills of comfort best ; 
Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone 
Enfeebled spirits own. 
And love to raise the languid eye, 
W^hen, like an angel's wing, they feel him fleeting 
by:— 

Feel only — for in silence gently gliding 

Fain would he shun both ear and sight, 
'Twixt Prayer and watchful Love his heart 
dividing, 
A nursing-father day and night. 
Such were the tender arms, where cradled lay, 
In her sweet natal day. 
The Church of Jesus ; such the love 
H@ to His chosen taught for His dear widow'd Dove. 
29 Y 



338 ST. BARNABAS. 

Warm'd underneath the Comforter's safe win^ 
They spread th' endearing warmth around : 
Mourners, speed here your broken hearts to bring, 

Here heahng dews and bahns abound : 
Here are soft hands that cannot bless in vain 
By trial taught your pain : 
Here loving hearts, that daily know 
The heavenly consolations they on you bestow,. 

Sweet thoughts are theirs, that breathe serenest 

calms, 
Of holy offerings timely paidP, 

Of fire from Heaven to bless their votive alms 

And passions on God's altar laid. 

The world to them is closed, and now they shine 

With rays of love divine. 

Through darkest nooks of this dull earth 

Pouring, in showery times, their glow of " quiet 

" mirth.' 

New liearts before their Saviour's feet to lay, 
This is their first, their dearest joy : 



P Having land, sold it, and brought the money, and laid il ai the 
Apostles' feet. — Acts iv. 37. 






ST. BARNABAS. .IVJ 

Their next, from heart to heart to clear the way'" 

For mutual love without alloy ; 
Never so blest, as when in Jescs' roll 

They write some hero soul, 
More pleased upon his brightening road 
To wait, than if their own with all his radiance 
glow'd. 

O happy spirits, mark'd by God and man 

Their messages of love to bearr, 
What though long since in Heaven your brows 
began 
The genial amaranth wreath to wear, 
And in th' eternal leisure of calm love 
Ye banquet there above. 
Yet in your sympathetic heart 
We and our earthly griefs may ask and hope a part, 

Comfort's true sons ! amid the thoughts of down 
That strew your pillow of repose, 

Sure, 'tis one joy to muse, how ye unknown 
By sweet remembrance soothe our woes, 

<l Barnabas took him, and brought him (Saul) to the Apostle. 

Acts ix. 27. 
r Actsxi. £2; xiii. 2. 



340 ST. BARNABAS. 

And how the spark ye lit, of heavenly cheer, 
Lives in our embers here, 
Where'er the Cross is borne with smiles, 
Or lighten'd secretly by Love's endearing wiles : 

Where'er one Levite in the temple keeps 
The watch-fire of his midnight prayer, 
Or issuing thence, the eyes of mourners steeps 

In heavenly balm fresh gather'd there ; 
Thus saints, that seem to die in earth's rude strife, 
Only win double life : 
They have but left our weary ways 
To live in memory here, in Heaven by love and 
praise. 



ST. JOHN BAPTIST'S DAY. 



Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of tha 
great and dreadful day of the Lord : and he shall turn the heart oi' 
the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to theif 
lathers. — Malachi iv. 5, 6. 



Twice in her season of decay 
The fallen Church hath felt Elijah's eye 
Dart from the wild its piercing ray : 
Not keener burns, in the chill morning sky, 
The herald star, 
Whose torch afar 
Shadows and boding night-birds fly. 

Methinks we need him once again, 
That favoured seer — but where shall he be found ? 

By Cherith's side we seek in vain, 
In vain on Carmel's green and lonely mound : 
Angels no more 
From Sinai soar, 
On his celestial errands bound, 
29* 



342 ST. JOHN BAPTIST'S DAY. 

But wafted to her glorious place 
By harmless fire, among the ethereal thrones, 

His spirit with a dear embrace 
Fhee, the loved harbinger of Jesus owns, 
Well pleased to view 
Her likeness true, 
And trace, in thine, her own deep tones. 

Deathless himself, he joys with thee 
To commune how a faithful martyr dies, 

And in the blest could envy be. 
He would behold thy wounds with envious eyes, 
Star of our morn. 
Who yet unborn^ 
Didst guide our hope, where Christ should rise. 

Now resting from your jealous care 
For sinners, such as Eden cannot know, 

Ye pour for us your mingled prayer, 
No anxious fear to damp Affection's glow. 
Love draws a cloud 
From you to shroud 
Rebelli'^n's mystery here below. 

• The Babe leaped in my womb for joy. — St. Luke i. 44. 



ST. JOHN BAPTIST'S DAY, 34l3 

And since we see, and not afar, 
The twilight of the great and dreadful day, 

Why linger, till Elijah's car 
^toop from the clouds? Why sleep ye? rise and pray 
Ye heralds seal'd 
In camp or field 
Your Saviour's banner to display. 

Where is the lore the Baptist taught, 
The soul unswerving and the fearless tongue ? 

The much-enduring wisdom, sought 
By lonely prayer the haunted rocks among ? 
Who counts it gain^ 
His light should wane, 
So the whole world to Jesus throng ? 

Thou Spirit, who the Church didst lend 
Her eagle wings, to shelter in the wild", 

We pray Thee, ere the Judge descend, 
With flames like these, all bright and undefiled, 
Her watchfires light, 
To guide aright 
Our weary souls, by earth beguiled. 

t He must increase, but I must divr^jicp — Sf. T'ihn »'} ^. 
n Bev. xii. 14. 



344 ST. JOHN BAPTIST S DAY. 

So glorious let Thy Pastors shine, 
That by their speaking lives the world may learn 

First filial duty, then divine^, 
That sons to parents, all to Thee may turn ; 
And ready prove 
In fires of love. 
At sight of Thee, for aye to burn. 

s He shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart 
of tlie children to their fathers. — Malachi iv. 6. 

To turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the aisobediem 
!o t!ie wisdom of the just; to make ready a people prepared for ths 
Lord.. —Si Luke i. 17. 



ST. PETEE'S DAY. 



Wlien Herod would have brought him forth, the same night 
WES sleeping. — Acts xii. 6. 



Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved^, 
Watch by Thine own forgiven friend ; 

In sharpest perils faithful proved, 
Let his soul love Thee to the end. 

The prayer is heard — else why so deep 
His slumber on the eve of death? 

And wherefore smiles he in his sleep, 
As one who drew celestial breath ? 

He loves and is beloved again — 
Can his soul choose but be at rest 1 

Sorrow hath fled away, and Pain 
Dares not invade the guarded nest. 

y St. Tohn xxi. 15, 16, 17. 



346 ST. PETER'S DAY. 

He dearly loves, and not alone : 

For his wing'd thoughts are soaring high 

Where never yet frail heart was known 
To breathe in vain Affection's sigh. 

He loves and weeps — but more than tears 
Have seal'd Thy welcome and his love—* 

One look lives in him, and endears 
Crosses and wrongs where'er he rove : 

That gracious chiding look^:, Thy call 
To win him to himself and Thee, 

Sweetening the sorrow of his fall 
Which else were rued too bitterly. 

Even through the veil of sleep it shines, 
The memory of that kindly glance ;— » 

The Angel watching by, divines 

And spares awhile his blissful trance. 

Or haply to his native lake 

His vision wafts him back, to talk 

With Jesus, ere his flight he take, 
As in that solemn evening walk, 

* St. Luke xxii. 61. 



ST. PETER'S DAY, 347 

When to the bosom of his friend, 

The Shepherd, He whose name is Goodj 

Did His dear lambs and sheep commend, 
Both bought and nourish'd with His blood ; 

Then laid on him th' inverted tree, 

Which firm embraced with heart and arm. 

Might cast o'er hope and memory. 
O'er life and death, its awful charm. 

With brightening heart he bears it on, 
His passport through th' eternal gates. 

To His sweet home — so nearly won, 
He seems, as by the door he waits. 

The unexpressive notes to hear 
Of angel song and angel motion, 

Rising and falling on the ear 

Like waves in Joy's unbounded ocean.—* 

His dream is changed — the Tyrant's voice 
Calls to that last of glorious deeds — 

But as he rises to rejoice, 

Not Herod but an Angel leads. 



348 ST. PETER'S DAY. 

He dreams he sees a lamp flash bright, 
Glancing around his prison room — 

But 'tis a gleam of heavenly light 
That fills up all the ample gloom. 

The flame, that in a few short years 
Deep through the chambers of the dead 

Shall jiierce, and dry the fount of tears. 
Is waving o'er his dungeon-bed. 

Touch'd he upstarts — his chains unbind — 
Through darksome vault, up massy stair, 

His dizzy doubting footsteps wind 
To freedom and cool moonlight air. 

Then all himself, all joy and calm, 
Though for awhile his hand forego, 

Just as it touch'd, the martyr's palm, 
He turns him to his task below ; 

The pastoral staff, the keys of Heaven, 
To wield awhile in gray-hair'd might. 

Then from his cross to spring forgiven, 
And follow Jesus out of sight. 



ST. JAMES'S DAY 



Ye shall drink indeed of My cup, and be baptizetl witti the baptism 
Ifeat I am baptized with : but to sit on My right hand, and on My left, 
ig not Mine to give, but it shall be given to them for whom it is prepared 
of My Father.— S«. Matthew xx. 23. 



Sit down and take thy fill of joy 

At God's right hand, a bidden guest, 
Drink of the cup that cannot cloy. 

Eat of the bread that cannot waste. 
O great Apostle ! rightly now 

Thou readest all thy Saviour meant, 
What time His grave yet gentle brow 

In sweet reproof on thee was bent. 

" Seek ye to sit enthroned by Me ? 

" Alas ! ye know not what ye ask, 
" The first in shame and agony, 

" The lowest in the meanest task— > 
30 



350 ST. JAMES'S DAY. 

" This can ye be ? and can ye drink 
" The cup that I in tears must steep, 

** Nor from the 'whehning waters shrink 
" That o'er Me roll so dark and deep V' 

" We can— Thine are we, dearest Lord, 

" In glory and in agony, 
" To do and suffer all Thy word ; 

" Only be Thou for ever nigh." — 
" Then be it so — My cup receive, 

" And of My woes baptismal taste : 
" But for the crown that angels weave 

" For those next Me in glory placed, 

" I give it not by partial love ; 

" But in My Father's book are writ 
" What names on earth shall lowliest prove, 

" That they in Heaven may highest sit." 
Take up the lesson, my heart ; 

Thou Lord of meekness, write it there, 
Thine own meek self to me impart. 

Thy lofty hope, Thy lowly prayer. 

If ever on the mount with Thee 
I seem to soar in vision bright, 



ST. JAMES'S DAY. 351 

With thoughts of coming agony®, 

Stay Thou the too presumptuous flight : 

Gently along the vale of tears 

Lead me from Tabor's sunbright steep, 

Let me not grudge a few short years 

With Thee toward Heaven to walk and weep : 

Too happy, on my silent path, 

If now and then allow'd, with Thee 
Watching some placid holy death 

Thy secret work of love to see ; 
But oh, most happy, should Thy call, 

Thy welcome call, at last be given — 
" Come where thou long hast stored thy all, 

" Come, see thy place prepared in Heaven." 

a St. Mattheto xvii. 12. " Likewise shall also the Son of Man suSa* 
©f them." This was just after the Transfiguration. 



ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 



Jesus answered and said unto him, Because I said unto thee I saw 
feee under the fig-tree, believest thou ? thou shall see greater thiagw 
Uruo. these. — St. John i. 50. 



Hold up thy mirror to the sun, 

And thou shalt need an eagle's gaze 

So perfectly the polish'd scone 
Gives back the glory of his rays : 

Turn it, and it shall paint as true 
The soft green of the vernal earth, 

And each small flower of bashful hue, 
That closest hides its lowly birth. 

Our mirror is a blessed book. 

Where out from each illumined page 



a 



ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 353 

Wo see one glorious Image look 
All eyes to dazzle and engage, 

The Son of God : and that indeed 

We see Him as He is, we know, 
Since in the same bright glass we read 

The very life of things below. — 

Eye of God's word^ ! where'er we turn 

Ever upon us ! thy keen gaze 
Can all the depths of sin discern. 

Unravel every bosom's maze : 

Who that has felt thy glance of dread 
Thrill through his heart's remotest ceils. 

About his path, about his bed. 

Can doubt what spirit in thee dwells ? 

" What word is this ? whence know'st liiou me ?' 
All wondering cries the humbled heart. 



t» " The position before us is, that we ourselves, :uid sucli as we, 
are the very persons whom Scripture speaks of, and to whom, as 
men, in every variety of persuasive form, it makes ils condescending 
tlirough celestial appeal. The point worthy of observation is, to note 
(;ow a book of the description and the compass which vi'e have 
represented Scripture to be, possesses this versatility of power; this 
'.y., like that of a portrait, uniformly fixed npon us, turn where we 
will.'''' — Miller's Bampton Lectures, p. 12S. 
30* z 



354 ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 

To near thee that deep mystery, 
The knowledge of itself, impart. 

The veil is raised , who runs may read. 
By its own light the truth is seen, 

And soon the Israelite indeed 

Bows down t' adore the Nazarene. 

So did Nathanael, guileless man, 
At once, not shame-faced or afraid, 

Owning Him God, Who so could scan 
His musings in the lonely shade ; 

In his own pleasant fig-tree's shade. 
Which by his household fountain grew. 

Where at noon-day his prayer he made 
To know God better than he knew. 

O happy hours of heaven- ward thought ! 

How richly crown'd ! how well improved I 
In musinar o'er the Law he taught. 

In waiting for the Lord he loved. 

We must not mar with earthly praise 
What God's approving word hath seal'd : 



ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 35. 

Enough, if right our feeble lays 
Take up the promise He reveal'd ; 

" The child-like faith, that asks not sight, 
" Waits not for wonder or for sign, 

" Believes, because it loves aright — 

" Shall see things greater, things divine, 

*' Heaven to that gaze shall open wide, 
" And brightest Angels to and fro 

" On messages of love shall glide 

" 'Twixt God above and Christ below." 

So still the guileless man is blest, 

To him all crooked paths are straight, 

Him on his way to endless rest 

Fresh, ever-growing strengths await *', 

God's witnesses, a glorious host, 
Compass him daily like a cloud ; 

Martyrs and seers, the saved and losty 
Mercies and judgments cry aloud. 

« They go from strength to strength.— Psalm Ixxxiv- ? 



ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 



Yet shall to him the still small voic5S, 
That first into his bosom found 

A way, and fix'd his wavering choic?^ 
Nearest and dearest ever sound* 



ST. MATTHEW. 



And after thes-e things, He went forth, and saw a publican, nanraed 
Levi? sitting at ilie receipt of custom ; and He said untc him, Follow 
Me. And he left all, rose up, and followed Him. — S^ Luke v. 27. 28, 



Ye hermits blest, ye holy maids, 
The nearest Heaven on earth, 
Who talk with God in shadowy glades, 

Free from rude care and mirth ; 
To whom some viewless teacher brings 
The secret lore of rural things, 
The moral of each fleeting cloud and gale. 
The whispers from above, that haunt the twilight valo: 

Say. when in pity ye have gazed 

On the wreathed smoke afar, 
That o'er some town, like mist upraised, 

HunjT hidins; sun and star, 
Then as ye turn'd your weary eye 
To the green earth and open sky, 



358 ST. MATTHEW. 

Were ye not fain to doubt how Faith could dwell 
Amid that dreary glare, in this world's citadel ? 

But Love's a flower that will not die 

For lack of leafy screen, 
And Christian Hope can cheer the eye 

That ne'er saw vernal green : 
Then be ye sure that Love can bless 
Even in this crowded loneliness, 
Where ever-moving myriads seem to say, 
Go — thou art nought to us, nor we to thee — away \ 

There are in this loud stunning tide 

Of human care and crime, 
With whom the melodies abide 

Of th' everlasting chime ; 
Who carry music in their heart 
Through dusky lane and wrangling mart, 
Plying their daily task with busier feet, 
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat. 

How sweet to them, in such brief rest 

As thronging cares afford, 
In thought to wander, fancy-blest, 

To where their gracious Lord 



ST. MATTHEW. 359 

In vain, to win proud Pharisees, 
Spake, and was heard by fell disease ^ — 
But not in vain, beside yon breezy lake. 
Bade the meek Publican his gainful seat forsake : 



At once he rose, and left his gold ; 

His treasure and his heart 
Transferr'd, where he shall safe behold 

Earth and her idols part ; 
While he beside his endless store 
Shall sit, and floods unceasing pour 
Of Christ's true riches o'er all time and space, 
Pirst angel of His Church, first steward of His Grace. 

Nor can ye not delight to think® 

Where He vouchsafed to eat. 
How the Most Holy did not shrink 

From touch of sinner's meat : 
What worldly hearts and hearts impure 
Went with Him through the rich man's door, 

d It seems from St. Matthew ix. 8, 9, that the calling of Levi took 
place immediately after the healing of the paralytic in the presence of 
the Pharisees. 

e St. Matthew is. 10. 



360 ST, MATTHEW. 

That we might learn of Him lost souls to love, 
And view His least and worst with hope to me^.i 
above. 

These gracious lines shed Gospel light 

On Mammon's gloomiest cells, 
As on some city's cheerless night 

The tide of sunrise swells. 
Till tower, and dome, and bridge-way proud 
Are mantled with a golden cloud, 
And to wise hearts this certain hope is given : 
" No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye of 
" Heaven." 

And oh ! if even on Babel shine 

Such gleams of Paradise, 
Should not their peace be peace divine, 

Who day by day arise 
To look on clearer heavens and scan 
The work of God untouched by man 1 
Shame on us, who about us Babel bear. 
And live in Paradise, as if God was not there ! 



ST. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS. 

Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for theiS 
who shall be heirs of salvation ? — Hebrews i. 14. 

Ye stars that round the Sun of righteousness 

In glorious prder roll. 
With harps for ever strung, ready to bless 

God for each rescued soul. 
Ye eagle spirits, that build in light divine, 

Oh ! think of us to-day, 
Faint warblers of this earth, that would combine 
Our trembling notes with your accepted lay. 

Your amaranth wreaths were earn'd; and homewsrd 
all 

Flush'd with victorious might, 
Ye might have sped to keep high festival, 

And revel in the light ; 
But meeting us, weak worldlings on our way, 

Tired ere the fight begun. 
Ye turn'd to help us in th' unequal fray. 
Remembering Whose we were, how dearly won : 

31 



362 ST. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS. 

Remembering Bethlehem, and that glorious night 

When ye, who used to soar 
Diverse along all space in fiery flight, 

Came thronging to adore 
Your God new-born, and made a sinner's child ; 

As if the stars should leave 
Their stations in the far ethereal wild. 
And round the sun a radiant circle weave. 

Nor less your lay of triumph greeted fair 
Our Champion and your King, 

[n that first strife, whence Satan in despair 
Sunk down on scathed wing : 

Alone He fasted, and alone He fought ; 
But when His toils were o'er. 

Ye to the sacred Hermit duteous brought 

Banquet and hymn, your Eden's festal store. 

Ye too, when lowest in th' abyss of woe 
He plunged to save His sheep, 

W 3re leaning from your golden thrones to know 
The secrets of that deep : 

But clouds were on His sorrow ; one alone 
His ao;onizin2: call 



ST. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS. 363 

Summon'a "Vom Heaven, to still that bitterest groan, 
And comfort Him, the Comforter of all. 

Oh ! highest favour'd of all Spirits create, 

(If right of thee we deem) 
How didst thou glide on brightening wing elate 

To meet th' unclouded beam 
Of Jesus from the couch of darkness rising ! 

How swell'd thine anthem's sound, 
With fear and mightier joy weak hearts surprising. 
" Your God is risen, and may not here be found !" 

Pass a few days, and this dull darkling globe 
Must yield Him from her sight ; — 

Brighter and brighter streams His glory-robe, 
And He is lost in light. 

Then, when through yonder everlasting arch, 
Ye in innumerous choir 

Pour'd, heralding Messiah's conquering march, 

Linger'd around His skirts two forms of fire : 

W^ith us they stay'd, high warning to impart ; 
" The Christ shall come again 
Even as He goes ; with the same human heart. 
" With the same godlike train." — 



364 ST. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS. 

Oh jealous God ! how could a sinner dare 

Think on that dreadful day, 
But that with all Thy wounds Thou wilt be there;, 
And all our angel friends to bring Thee on Thy 
way? 

Since to Thy little ones is given such grace, 

That they who nearest stand 
Alway to God in Heaven, and see His face. 

Go forth at His command. 
To wait around our path in weal or woe, 

As erst upon our King, 
Set Thy baptismal seal upon our brow. 
And waft us heaven-ward with enfolding wing : 

Grant, Lord, that when around th' expiring world 

Our seraph guardians wait. 
While on her death-bed, ere to ruin hurl'd, 

She owns Thee, all too late, 
They to 'their charge may turn, and thankful see 

Thy mark upon us still ; 
Then all together rise, and reign with Thee, 
^nd all their holy joy o'er contrite hearts fulfil I 



8T. LUKE, 



Luke, the beloved physician, and Demas, greet yoa — Col. iv, 14 
Demas hatn forsaken me, having loved this present world . . . Oiilj 
/;uke is with me. — 2 Timothy iv. 10, 11. 



Two clouds before the summer gale 
In equal race fleet o'er the sky : 

Two flowers, when wintry blasts assail, 
Together pine, together die. 

But two capricious human hearts — ■ 
No sage's rod may track their ways, 

No eye pursue their lawless starts 
Along their wild self-chosen maze. 

He only by whose sovereign hand 

Even sinners for the evil dayf 
Were made — who rules the world He plann'd, 

Turning our worst His own good way ; 

i The Lord hath made all things for Himself; yea, even the wicked 
for the day of evil. — Proverbs xvi. 4. 
31=^ 



366 ST. LUKE. 

He only can the cause reveal. 

Why, at the same fond bosom fed, 

Taught in the self-same lap to kneel 
Till the same prayer were duly said, 

Brothers in blood and nurture too. 
Aliens in heart so oft should prove ; 

One lose, the other keep, Heaven's clue ; 
One dwell in wrath, and one in love. 

He only knows, — for He can read 
The mystery of the wicked heart, — 

Why vainly oft our arrows speed 
When aim'd with most unerring art ; 

While from some rude and powerless arm 
A random shaft in season sent 

Shall light upon some lurking harm. 
And work some wonder little meant. 

Doubt we, how souls so wanton change. 
Leaving their own experienced rest 1 

Need not around the world to range ; 
One narrow cell may teach us best. 



ST. LUKE. 367 

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint 
In triumph wear his Christ-Hke chain ; 

No fear lest he should swerve or faint ; 
" His life is Christ, his death is gains." 

Two converts, watching by his side. 
Alike his love and greetings share ; 

Luke the beloved, the sick soul's guide, 
And Demas, named in faltering prayer. 

Pass a few years— look in once more — 

The saint is in his bonds again ; 
Save that his hopes more boldly soar^, 

He and his lot unchanged remain. 

But only Luke is with him now : — 
Alas ! that even the martvr's cell. 

Heaven's very gate, should scope allow 
For the false world's seducing spell. 

'Tis sad — but yet 'tis well, be sure. 
We on the sight should muse awhile, 



g Philippians i. 21. 

h In the Epistle to the Philippians, ''I know that I shall abide and 
continue Mnth you all : — I count not myself to have apprehended." 
chap. i. 25; iii. 13. 

In 2 Timothy, " I have finished my course," &c, chap, iv 7, 8. 



368 ST. LUKE. 

Nor deem our shelter all secure 
Even in the Church's holiest aisle. 

Vainly before the shrine he bends, 

Who knows not the true pilgrim's part : 

The martyr's cell no safety lends 

To him, who wants the martyr's heart. 

But if there be, who follows Paul 
As Paul his Lord, in life and death, 

Where'er an aching heart may call. 
Ready to speed and take no breath ; 

Whose joy is, to the wandering sheep 
To tell of the great Shepherd's lovei ; 

To learn of mourners while they weep 
The music that makes mirth above ; 

Who makes the Saviour all his theme. 
The Gospel all his pride and praise — 

Approach : for thou canst feel the gleam 
That round the martyr's death-bed plays ; 



' The Gospel of St. Luke abounds most in such passages as the parable 
of the lost sheep ; such as display God's mercy to penitent sinners. 



ST. LUltE. 369 

Thou hast an ear for Angels' songs, 
A breath the Gospel trump to fill, 

And taught by thee the Church prolongs 
Her hymns of high thanksgiving still '^ 

Ah ! dearest mother, since too oft 

The world yet wins some Demas frail 

Even from thine arms, so kind and soft. 
May thy tried comforts never fail ! 

When faithless ones forsake thy wing, 

Be it vouchsafed thee still to see 
Thy true, fond nurslings closer cling. 

Cling closer to their Lord and thee. 



o 



* The Christian hymns are all in Si. Luke; the M.isjnificat, ilt^co 
dj'ttus, :ind Nunc Dimittia. 



jL& 



ST. SIMON AND ST. JUDE. 



That ye should earnestly contend fori the faith which was UQce Jc 
Uvered '.mto the saints. — St. Jude «. 



Seest thou, how tearful and alone, 
And drooping like a wounded dove, 

The Cross in sight, but Jesus gone, 
The widow'd Church is fain to rove ? 

Who is at hand that loves the Lord™? 

Make haste, and take her home, and bring 
Thine household choir in true accord 

Their soothing hymns for her to sing. 

Soft on her fluttering heart shall breaths 
The fragrance of that genial isle, 

There she may weave her funeral wreath^, 
And to her own sad music smile. 

' iirayoiv^ecrOai : " be very anxious for it :" " feel for it as for ;i 
friend in jeopardy." 

"' Then saith He to the disciple, Behold thy mother ! And from thAt 
hour lliat disciple took her unto his own home. — St. John xix. '27. 



ST, SIMON AND ST. JUD.E. 

The Spirit of the dying Son 
Is there, and fills the holy place 

With records sweet of duties done, 
Of pardon'd foes, and cherish'd grace« 

And as of old by two and two'^ 
His herald saints the Saviour sent 

To soflen hearts like morning dew, 
Where He to shine in mercy meant ; 

So evermore, He deems His name 

Best honour'd, and His way prepared^ 

When watching by His altar-flame 
He sees His servants duly pair'd. 

He loves when age and youth are met, 
Fervent old age and youth serene, 

Their high and low in concord set 
For sacred song, Joy's golden mean. 

He loves when some clear soaring mind 

Is drawn by mutual piety 
To simple souls and unrefined, 

Who in life's shadiest covert lie. 

» St Mark vi 7; St. Luke X 1. 



372 ST. SIMON AND ST. JUDE. 

Or if perchance a sadden'd heart 

That once was gay and felt the spring, 

Cons slowly o'er its alter'd part, 
In sorrow and remorse to sing, 

Thy gracious care will send that way 
Some spirit full of glee, yet taught 

To bear the sight of dull decay, 

And nurse it with all pitying thought ; 

Cheerful as soaring lark, and mild 
As evening blackbird's full-toned lay. 

When the relenting sun has smiled 

Bright through a whole December day. 

These are the tones to brace and cho.tr 
The lonely watcher of the fold. 

When nights are dark, and foemen near. 
When visions fade and hearts grow cold 

How timely then a comrade's song 
Comes floating on the mountain air, 

A.nd bids thee yet be bold and strong — 
Fancy may die, out Faith is there. 



ALL SAINTS' DAY. 



Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we hare sealed 
he servants of our God in their foreheads. — Revelations vii. 3. 



Why blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind, 

Now every leaf is brown and sere. 
And idly droops, to thee resign'd, 

The fading chaplet of the year ? 
Yet wears the pure aerial sky 
Her summer veil, half drawn on high. 
Of silvery haze, and dark and still 
The shadows sleep on every slanting hill. 

How quiet shews the woodland scene ! 
Each flower and tree, its duty done, 
Reposing in decay serene. 

Like weary men when age is won, 
Such calm old age as conscience pure 
And self-commanding hearts ensure, 
Waiting their summons to the sky. 
Content to live, but not afraid to die» 
32 



374f ALL SAINTS' DAY. 

Sure if our eyes were purged to trace 
God's unseen armies hovering round, 

We should behold by Angels' grace 
The four strong winds of Heaven fast bound, 

Their downward sweep a moment staj'd, 

On ocean cove and forest glade, 

Till the last flower of autumn shed 
Her funeral odours on her dying bed. 

So in Thine awful armory, Lord, 
The lightnings of the judgment day 

Pause yet awhile, in mercy stored, 
Till willing hearts wear quite away 

Their earthly stains ; and spotless shine 

On every brow in light divine 

The Cross by Angel hands impress'd, 
The seal of glory won and pledge of promised rest. 

Little they dream, those haughty souls 
Whom empires own with bended knee, 

What lowly fate their own controls, 
Together link'd by Heaven's degree ; — 

A.S bloodhounds hush their baying wild 

To wanton with some fearless child, 



ALL saints' day. 375 

So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes, 
Till some repenting heart be ready for the skies. 

Think ye the spires that glow so bright 

In front of yonder setting sun, 
Stand by their own unshaken might ? 

No — where th' upholding grace is won, 
We dare not ask, nor Heaven would tell, 
But sure from many a hidden dell, 
From many a rural nook unthought of there. 
Rises for that proud world the saints' prevailing prayer. 

On Champions blest, in Jesus' name, 

Short be your strife, your triumph full. 
Till every heart have caught your flame. 
And, lighten'd of the world's misrule, 
Ye soar those elder saints to meet, 
Gather'd long since at Jesus' feet. 
No world of passions to destroy, 
Your prayers and struggles o'er, your task all praise 
and joy. 



HOLY COMMUNION. 

O God of Mercy, God of Might, 
How should pale sinners bear the sight. 
If, as Thy power is surely here, 
Thine open glory should appear ? 

For now Thy people are allow'd 
To scale the mount and pierce the cloud, 
And Faith mav feed her eao-er view 
With wonders Sinai never knew. 

Fresh from th' atoning sacrifice 
The world's Creator bleeding lies, 
That man, His foe, by whom He bled, 
May take Him for his daily bread. 

O agony of wavering thought 
When sinners first so near are brought ! 
"It is my Maker — dare I stay ? 
" My Saviour — dare I turn away ?" 



HOLY COMMUNION. 377 

Thus while the storm is high within 
'Twixt love of Christ and fear of sin, 
Who can express the soothing charnj, 
To feel Thy kind upholding arm, 



My mother Church ? and hear thee tel\ 
Of a world lost, yet loved so well, 
That He by whom the Angels live, 
His only Son for her would give^. 

And doubt we yet ? Thou call'st again 
A lower still, a sweeter strain ; 
A voice from Mercy's inmost shrine, 
The very breath of Love divine. 

Whispering it says to each apart, 
*' Come unto Me, thou trembling heart?;" 
And we must hope, so sweet the tone, 
The precious words are all our own. 



o *' So God loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son." 
See the sentences in the Communion Service, after the Confession, 
p Come unto Me, all that travail and are heavy laden, and I w^ill re« 

fresli you. 

32* 



378 HOLY COMMUNION. 

Hear them, kind Saviour — hear Thy spouae 
Low at Thy feet renew her vows ; 
Thine own dear promise she would plead 
For us her true though fallen seed. 



She pleads by all Thy mercies, told 
Thy chosen witnesses of old, 
Love's heralds sent to man forgiven, 
One from the Cross, and one from Heaven "J. 

This, of true Penitents the chief. 
To the lost spirit brings relief, 
Lifting on high th' adored Name ; — 
" Sinners to save, Christ Jesus came'"." 

That, dearest of Thy bosom Friends, 
Into the wavering heart descends — 
" What? fall'n again? yet chc"^ful rise«, 
" Thine Intercessor never dies.'* 



q St. Paul and St. John. 

r This is a true saying, and worthy of all men to be received, That 
Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. 

s If any man sin, Ave have an Advocate with the Father, Jesns 
Christ the righteous 



HOLY COMMUNION. 379 

The eye of Faith, that waxes bright 
Each moment by Thy altar's light, 
Sees them e'en now : they shall abide 
In mystery kneeling at our side ; 

And with them every spirit blest, 
From realms of triumph or of rest, 
From Him who saw creation's morOj 
Of all Thine Angels eldest born, 

To the poor babe, who died to-day, 
Take part in our thanksgiving lay. 
Watching the tearful joy and calm. 
While sinners taste Thine heavenly balm. 

Sweet awful hour ! the only sound 
One gentle footstep gliding round. 
Offering by turns on Jesus' part 
The Cross to every hand and heart. 

Refresh us. Lord, to hold it fast ; 
And when Thy veil is drawn at last, 
Let us depart where shadows cease, 
With words of blessing and of peace. 



HOLY BAPTISM. 

Where is it mothers learn their love ?— » 
In every Church a fountain springs 
O'er which th' eternal Dove 
Hovers on softest wings. 

What sparkles in that lucid flood 
Is water, by gross mortals eyed : 
But seen by Faith, 'tis blood 
Out of a dear Friend's side. 

A few calm words of faith and prayer, 
A few bright drops of holy dew, 
Shall work a wonder there 
Earth's charmers never knew. 

O happy arms where cradled lies. 
And ready for the Lord's embrace, 
That precious sacrifice, 
The darling of His grace ! 



HOLY BAPTISM. 381 

Blest eyes, that see the smiling gleam 
Upon the slumbering features glow, 
When the life-giving stream 
Touches the tender brow ! 

Or when the holy cross is sign'd, 
And the young soldier duly sworn 
With true and fearless mind 
To serve the Virgin-born. 

But happiest ye, who seal'd and blest 
Back to your arms your treasure take^ 
With Jesus' mark impress'd 
To nurse for Jesus' sake: 

To whom- — as if in hallow'd air 

Ye knelt before some awful shrine — 
His innocent gestures wear 
A meaning half divine : 

* 

By whom Love's daily touch is seen 

In strengthening form and freshening huGii 
In the fix'd brow serene, 
The deep yet eager view. — 



382 HOLY BAPTISM. 

Who taught thy pure and even breath 
To come and go with such sweet grace ? 
Whence thy reposing Faith, 
Though in our frail embrace ? 

O tender gem, and full of Heaven ! 
* Not in the twilight stars on high, 
Not in moist flowers at even 
See we our God so nigh. 

Sweet one, make haste and know Him too, 
Thine own adopting Father love. 
That like thine earliest dew 
Thy dying sweets may prove. 



CATECHISM. 

Oh ! say not, dream not, heavenly notes jj^ 

To childish ears are vain, 
That the young mind at random floats. 

And cannot reach the strain. 

Dim or unheard, the words may fall, 
And yet the heaven-taught mind 

May learn the sacred air, and all 
The harmony unwind. 

Was not our Lord a little child, 

Taught by degrees to pray, 
By father dear and mother mild 

Instructed day by day ? 

And loved He not of Heaven to 

With children in His sight. 
To meet them in His daily walk. 

And to His arms invite ? 



384 CATECHISM. 

What though around His throne of fire 

The everlasting chant 
Be wafted from the seraph choir 

In glory jubilant 1 

Yet stoops He, ever pleased to mark 
^ Our rude essays of love, 

Faint as the pipe of wakening lark, 
Heard by some twilight grove : 

Yet is He near us, to survey 

These bright and orderM files. 

Like spring-flowers in their best array 
All silence and all smiles^. 

Save that each little voice in turn 
Some gloMous truth proclaims, 

What sages would have died to learn. 
Now taught by cottage dames. 

And if some tones be false or low, 
What are all prayers beneath 

But cries of babes, that cannot know 

Half the deep thought they breathe? 



CATECHISM. 385 

In His own words we Christ adorej 

But Angels, as we speak, 
Higher above our meaning soar 

Than we o'er children weak : 

4nd yet His words mean more than the^^ 
And yet He owns their praise : 

Why should we think, He turns away 
From infants' simple lays ? 



83 Bb 



CONFIRMATION. 

The shadow of th' Almighty's cloud 
Calm on the tents of Israel lay, 

While drooping paused twelve banners prot;^ 
Till He arise and lead the way. 

Then to the desert breeze unroll'd, 
Cheerly the waving pennons fly, 

Lion or eagle — each bright fold 
A lodestar to a warrior's eye. 

So should Thy champions, ere the strife, 
By holy hands o'ershadow'd kneel. 

So, fearless for their charmed life, 
Bear, to the end. Thy Spirit's seal. 

Steady and pure as stars that beam 
In middle heaven, all mist above. 

Seen deepest in the frozen stream : — 
Such is their high courageous love. 



C01NFIR3IATI0]M. SHI 

And soft as pure, and warm as bright, 
They brood upon life's peaceful hour, 

As if the Dove that guides their flight 
Shook from her plumes a downy shower* 

Spirit of might and sweetness too ! 

Now leading on the wars of God, 
Now to green isles of shade and dew 

Turning the waste Thy people trod ,* 

Draw, Holy Ghost, Thy seven-fold veil 
Between us and the fires of youth ; 

Breathe, Holy Ghost, Thy freshening gale. 
Our fever'd brow in age to soothe. 

And oft as sin and sorrow tire, 
The hallow'd hour do Thou renew 

When beckon'd up the awful choir 

By pastoral hands, toward Thee we dr.ew| 

When trembling at the sacred rail 
We hid our eyes and held our breath, 

Felt Thee how strong, our hearts how frail, 
And long'd to own Thee to the death. 



388 CONFIEMATIOJSf. 

For ever on our souls be traced 

That blessing dear, that dove-like haud^ 

A sheltering rock in Memory's waste, 
O'ershadowin^ all the weary land. 



lATRIMOlft. 

There is an awe in mortals' joy, 

A deep mysterious fear 
Half of the heart will still employ. 

As if we drew too near 
To Eden's portal, and those fires 
That bicker round in wavy spires, 
Forbidding, to our frail desires, 

What cost us once so dear. 

We cower before th' heart-searching eye 

In rapture as in pain ; 
Even wedded Love, till Thou be nigh, 

Dares not believe her gain : 
Then in the air she fearless springs. 
The breath of Heaven beneath her wings. 
And leaves her woodnote wild, and sings 

A tuned and measured strain. 
S3* 



>9G MAIKIMONY. 

Ill fare the lay, though soft as dew 

And free as air it fall, 
That, with Thine altar full in view, 

Thy votaries would enthral 
To a foul dream, of heathen night, 
Lifting her torch in Love's despite, 
And scaring with base wildfire light 

The sacred nuptial halL 

Far other strains, far other fires. 
Our marriage offering grace ; 

Welcome, all chaste and kind desires. 
With even matron pace 

Approaching down the hallow'd aisle ! 

Where should ye seek Love's perfect smile, 

But where your prayers were learn'd erewhile 
In her own native place ? 

Where, but on His benignest brow, 
Who waits to bless you here ? 

Living, He own'd no nuptial vow, 
No bower to Fancy dear : 

Love's very self, for Him no need 

To nurse, on earth, the heavenly seed : 



MATllIMONY. 391 

Yet comfort in His eye we read 
For bridal joy and fear. 

'Tis He who clasps the marriage band, 

And fits the spousal ring, 
Then leaves ye kneeling, hand in hand, 

Out of His stores to bring 
His Father's dearest blessing, shed 
Of old on Isaac's nuptial bed, 
Now on the board before ye spread 

Of our all-bounteous King. 

All blessings of the breast and womb. 
Of Heaven and earth beneath. 

Of converse high, and sacred home 
Are yours, in life and death. 

Only kneel on, nor turn away 

From the pure shrine, where Christ to-day 

Will store each flower, ye duteoiis lay, 
For an eternal wreath. 



VISITATION AND COMMUNION OF 
THE SICK. 

Youth and Joy, your airy tread 
Too lightly springs by Sorrow's bed, 
Your keen eye-glances are too bright, 
Too restless for a sick man's sight. 
Farewell : for one short life we part : 

1 rather woo the soothing art. 
Which only souls in sufferings tried 
Bear to their suffering brethren's side. 

Where may we learn that gentle spell ? 
Mother of Martyrs, thou canst tell ! 
Thou, who didst watch thy dying Spouse 
With pierced hands and bleeding brows, 
Whose tears from age to age are shed 
O'er sainted sons untimely dead, 
If e'er we charm a soul in pain, 
Thine is the key-note of our strain. 



VISITATION OF THE SICK. 393 

How sweet with thee to lift the latch, 
Where Faith has kept her midnight watch, 
Smiling on woe ; with thee to kneel. 
Where lix'd, as if one prayer could heal. 
She listens, till her pale eye glow 
With joy, wild health can never know, 
And each calm feature, ere we read. 
Speaks, silently, thy glorious Creed. 

Such have I seen ; and while they pour'd 
Their hearts in every contrite word, 
How have I rather long'd to kneel 
And ask of them sweet pardon's seal ! 
How bless'd the heavenly music brought 
By thee to aid my faltering thought ! 
" Peace" ere we kneel, and when we cease 
To pray, the farewell word is, " Peace." 

I came again : the place was bright 
" With something of celestial light"— 
A simple Altar by the bed 
For high Communion meetly spread. 
Chalice, and plate, and snowy vest. — 
We ate and drank : then calmly blest, 



394 VISITATION OP THE SICK. 

AH mourners, one with dying breath, 
We sate and talk'd of Jesus' death. 



Once more I came : the silent room 
Was veil'd in sadly-soothing gloom, 
And ready for her last abode 
The pale form like a lily show'd, 
By virgin fingers duly spread, 
And prized for love of summer lied. 
The light from those soft-smiling eyes 
Had fleeted to its parent skies. 

O soothe us, haunt us, night and day. 
Ye gentle Spirits far away, 
W"ith whom we shared the cup of grace. 
Then parted ; ye to Christ's embrace, 
We to the lonesome world again, 
Yet mindful of th' unearthly strain 
Practised with you at Eden's door, 
To be sung on, where Angels soar, 
With blended voices evermore. 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 



And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her, and said unta 
her, Weep not. And He came and touched the bier ; and they that 
bare him stood still. And He said, Young man, I say unto thee. Arise. 

St. Luke \u. 13, J .. 



Who says, the wan autumnal sun 

Beams with too faint a smile 
To light up nature's face again, 
And, though the year be on the wane, 

With thoughts of spring the heart beguile ? 

Wafl him, thou soft September breeze, 

And gently lay him down 
Within some circling woodland wall, 
Where bright leaves, reddening ere they fall, 

Wave gaily o'er the waters brown. 

And let some graceful arch be there 
With wreathed mullicns proud, 



396 BUKIAL OF THE DEAD. 

With burnish'd ivy for its screen, 
And moss, that glows as fresh and green 
As though beneath an April cloud. — 

Who says the widow's heart must break, 

The childless mother sink ? — 
A kinder truer voice I hear, 
Which even beside that mournful bier 

Whence parents' eyes would hopeless shrink, 

Bids weep no more — heart bereft. 
How strange, to thee, that sound ! 
• A widow o'er her only son. 

Feeling more bitterly alone 

For friends that press officious round. 

Yet is the voice of comfort heard. 

For Christ hath touch'd the bier — 
The bearers wait with wondering eye, 
The swelling bosom dares not sigh, 
But all is still, 'twixt hope and fear. 

Even such an awful soothins; calm 
We sometimes see alight 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 397 

On Christian mourners, while they wait 
In silence, by some church-yard gate, 
Their summons to the holy rite. 

And such the tones of love, which break 

The stillness of that hour, 
Quelling th' embitter'd spirit's strife — 
" The Resurrection and the Life 

" Am I : believe, and die no more." — '• 

Unchanged that voice — and though bo^ yet 

The dead sit up and speak. 
Answering its call ; we gladlier rest 
Our darlings on earth's quiet breast. 

And our hearts feel they must not break* 

Far better they should sleep awhile 

Within the Church's shade, 
Nor wake, until new heaven, new e&rth, 
Meet for their new immortal birth 

For their abiding-place be made, 

Than wander back to life, and lean 
On our frail love once more« 
34 



398 BURIAL OP THE DEAD. 

'Tis sweet, as year by year we lose 
Friends out of sight, in faith to muse 
How grows in Paradise our store. 

Then pass, ye mourners, cheerly on, 

Through prayer unto the tomb. 
Still, as ye watch life's falling leaf. 
Gathering from every loss and grief 
Hope of new spring and endless home 

Then cheerly to your work again 
With hearts new-braced and set 
To run, untired, love's blessed race, 
As meet for those, who face to face 
Over Uie grave their Lord have met. 



CHURCHING OF WOMEN. 

Is there, in bowers of endless spring, 

One known from all the seraph band 
By softer voice, by smile and wing 

More exquisitely bland ? 
Here let him speed : to-day this hallow'd air 
Is fragrant with a mother's first and fondest prayer. 

Only let Heaven her fire impart, 

No richer incense breathes on earth : 
" A spouse with all a daughter's heart," 
Fresh from the perilous birth. 
To the great Father lifts her pale glad eye, 
Like a reviving flower when storms are hush'd on 
high. 

O what a treasure of sweet thought 
Is here ! what hope and joy and love 



400 CIIUKCHING OF WOMEN. 

All in one tender bosom brought, 
For the all-gracious Dove 
To brood o'er silently, and form for Heaven 
Each passionate wish and dream to dear affection 
given. 

Her fluttering heart, too keenly blest, 

Would sicken, but she leans on Thee, 
Sees Thee by faith on Mary's breast. 
And breathes serene and free. 
Slight tremblings only of her veil declare* 
Soft answers duly whisper'd to each soothing prayer. 

We are too weak, when Thou dost bless. 

To bear the joy — help. Virgin-born ! 
By Thine own mother's first caress, 
That waked Thy natal morn \ 
Help, by the unexpressive smile, that made 
Heaven on earth around the couch where Thoj 
wast laid ! 



t Wliet the woman comes to this office, the rubric (as it was altered 
at the last review) directs that she be decently apparelled, i. e. as the 
custom and order was formerly, with a white covering or veil. Wheat- 
ly on the Common Prayer, c. xiii. sect. i. 3. 



COMMINATION. 

The prayers are o'er : why slumberest thou so 
long, 
Thou voice of sacred song? 
Why swell'st thou not, like breeze from moun- 
tain cave, 
High o'er the echoing nave. 
The white-robed priest, as otherwhile, to guide, 
Up to the altar's northern side'? — 
JL mourner's tale of shame and sad aecay 
K "eps back our glorious sacrifice to-day : 

The widow'd Spouse of Christ: with ashea 
crown'd. 
Her Christmas robes unbound, 
She lingers in the porch for grief and fear, 

Keeping her penance drear. — 
O is it nought to you ? that idly gay, 
Or coldly proud, ye turn away? 
But if her warning tears in vain be spent, 
Lo, to her alter'd eye the Law's stern fires are lent. 
34* cc 



402 COMMINATION. 

Each awful curse, that on Mount Ebal rang, 

Peals with a direr clang 
Out of that silver trump, whose tones of old 

Forgiveness only told. 
And who can blame the mother's fond affright 
Who sporting on some giddy height 
Her infant sees, and springs with hurried hand 
To snatch the rover from the dangerous strand ] 

But surer than all words the silent spell 

(So Grecian legends tell) 
When to her bird, too early scaped the nest, 

She bares her tender breast. 
Smiling he turns and spreads his little wing, 
There to glide home, there safely cling. 
So yearns our mother o'er each truant son. 
So softly falls the lay in fear and wrath begun. 

Wayward and spoiPd she knows ye : the keen 
blast. 

That braced her youth, is past : 
The rod of discipline, the robe of shame — 

She bears them in your name : 

" Alluding to a beautiful anecdote in the Greek Anthology, torn i 
ISO. ed. Jacobs. See Pleasures of Memory, p. 123. 



COMMINATION. 403 

Only return and love. But ye perchance 
Are deeper plunged in sorrow's tcance : ' 
iTour God forgives, but ye no comfort take 
Till ye have scourged the sins that in your conscif^nce 
ache. 

O heavy laden soul ! kneel down and hear 

Thy penance in calm fear : 
With thine own lips to sentence all thy sin ; 

Then, by the judge within 
Absolved, in thankful sacrifice to part 
For ever with thy sullen heart, 
Nor on remorseful thoughts to brood, and stain 
The glory of the Cross, forgiven and cheer'd in vain. 



FORMS OE PRAYER TO BE USED 
AT SEA. 



"When thou passes! through the waters, I v/ill be with thee. 

Isaiah xliii. 2. 



The shower of moonlight falls as still and clear 

Upon the desert main, 
As where sweet flowers some pastoral garden cheer 

With fragrance after rain : 
The wild winds rustle in the piping shrouds, 

As in the quivering trees : 
Like summer fields, beneath the shadowy clouds 

The yielding waters darken in the breeze. 

Thou too art here with thy soft inland tones. 

Mother of our new birth ; 
The lonely ocean learns thy orisons, 

And loves thy sacred mirth ; 



FORMS OF PRAYER TO BE USED AT SEA. -KJC 

When storms are high, or when the fires of war 
Come lightening round our course, 

Thou breath'st a note like music from afar, 

Tempering rude hearts with calm angelic force. 



Far, far away, the homesick seaman's hoard, 

Thy fragrant tokens live, 
Like flower-leaves in a precious volume stored, 

To solace and relieve 
Some heart too weary of the restless world ; 

Or like thy sabbath Cross, 
That o'er the brightening billow streams unfurl'd^ 

Whatever gale the labouring vessel toss. 



kindly southing in high Victory's hour, 

Or when a comrade dies. 
In whose sweet presence Sorrow dares not lower, 

Nor Expectation rise 
Too high for earth ; what mother's heart could spare 

To the cold cheerless deep 
Her flower and hope ? but Thou art with him theic, 

Pledge of the untired arm and eye that cannoi 
sleep : 



fl'G F0R3IS OF PRAYER TO BE USED AT SEA 

The eye that watches o'er wild Ocean's dead» 

Each in his coral cave, 
Fondly as if the green turf wrapt his head 

Fast by his father's grave. — 
One moment, and the seeds of life shall spring 

Out of the waste abvss, 
And happy warriors triumph with their King 

In worlds without a sea^, unchanging orbs of 
biiss. 

« And there was no more sea..— Revelations xxi. 1 



GUNPOWDER TREASON. 



As thou hast testified of Me in Jerusalem, so must thou bear witaacs 
«I80 at Rome. — Acts xxiii. 11. 



Beneath the burning eastern sky 
The cross was raised at morn : 

The widow'd Church to weep stood by, 
The world, to hate and scorn. 

Now, journeying westward, evermore 
We know the lonely Spouse 

By the dear mark her Saviour bore 
Traced on her patient brows. 

At Rome she wears it, as of old 

Upon the accursed hill : 
By monarchs clad in gems and gold, 

She f^oes a mourner still. 



408 GUNPOWDER TREASON. 

She mourns that tender hearts should bend 

Before a meaner shrine, 
And upon Saint or Angel spend 

The love that should be thine. 

By day and night her sorrows fall 

Where miscreant hands and rude 

Have stain'd ner pure ethereal pall 
With many a martyr's blood. 

And yearns not her parental heart. 
To hear their secret sighs, 

Upon whose doubting way apart 
Bewildering shadows rise ? 

Who to her side in peace would cling, 
But fear to wake, and find 

What they had deem'd her genial wing 
Was Error's soothing blind. 

She treasures up each throbbing prayer i 
Come, trembler, come and pour 

Into her bosom all thy care. 
For she has balm in store. 



GUNPOWDER TREASON. 409 

Her gentle teaching sweetly blends 

With the clear light of Truth 
Th' aerial gleam that Fancy lends 

To solemn thoughts in youth. — 

If thou hast loved, in hours of gloom, 

To dream the dead are near, 
And people all the lonely room 

With guardian spirits dear. 

Dream on the soothma aream at vvul : 

The lurid ijust iS oer, 
That shew d the rignteous sutfermg stiil 

Upon th' eternal shore. 

If with thy heart the strains accord, 

That on His altar-throne 
Highest exalt thy glorious Lord, 

Yet leave Him most thine own ; 

O come to our Communion Feast : 

There present in the heart. 

Not in the hands, th' eternal Priest 

Will His true self impart.— 
35 



410 GUNPOWDER TREASON. 

Thus, should thy soul misgiving turn 
Back to th' enchanted air, 

Solace and warning thou mayst learn 
From all that tempts thee there. 

And O I by all the pangs and fears 
Fraternal spirits know, 

When for an elder's shame the tears 
Of wakeful anguish flow- 

Speak gently of our sister's fall : 
\Vlio knows but gentle love 

May win her at our patien*, call 
The surer way to prove ? 



KING CHARLES THE MARTYR. 



This is thankworthy, if a man for conscience toward God end lira 
grief, suffering wrongfully. — 1 St. Peter ii. 19. 



Praise to our pardoning God ! though silent now 
The thunders of the deep prophetic sky, 

Though in our sight no powers of darkness bow 
Before th' Apostles' glorious company ; 

The Martyrs' noble army still is ours, 

Far in the North our fallen days have seen 

How in her woe the tenderest spirit towers, 
For Jesus' sake in agony serene. 

Praise to our God ! not cottage hearths alone, 
And shades impervious to the proud world's glare- 



r4 



4<12 KING CHARLES THE MAETYIc. 

Such witness yield : a monarch from his throne 
Springs to his Cross and finds his glory there. 

Vcs : wheresoe'er one trace ©f thee is found, 
As in the Sacred Land, the shadows fall : 

With beating hearts we roam the haunted ground, 
Lone battle-field, or crumbling prison hall. 

\.nd there are aching solitary breasts. 

Whose widow'd walk with thought of thee is cheer'd, 
Cur own, our royal Saint : thy memory rests 

On many a prayer, the more for thee endear'd. 

True son of our dear Mother, early taught 
With her to worship and for her to die, 

Nursed in her aisles to more than kingly thought, 
Oft in her solemn hours we dream thee nigh. 

For thou didst love to trace her daily lore. 
And where we look for comfort or for calm 

Over tne self-same lines to bend, and pour 

Thy heart with hers in some victorious psalm. 

And well did she thy loyal love repay ; 
When all forsook, her Angels still were nigh, 



KING CHARLES THE MARTYR. 413 

Chain'd and bereft, and on thy funeral way, 
Straight to the Cross she turn'd thy dying eye^. 

And yearly now, before the Martyrs' King, 
For thee she offers her maternal tears, 

Calls us, like thee, to His dear feet to cling. 
And bury in His wounds our earthly fears. 

The Angels hear, and there is rnjrth in Heaven, 
Fit prelude of the joy, when spirits won 

Like thee to patient Faith, shall rise forgiven. 

And at their Saviour's knees thy bright exampla 
own. 



y His majesty then bade him (Mr. Herbert) withdraw ; for he was 
about an hour in private with the Bishop (Juxon) : and being called in, 
the Bishop -went to prayer ; and reading also the 27th chapter of the 
Gospel of St. INIatthew, which relateth the passion of our Blessed 
Saviour. The King, after the Service was done, asked the Bishop, if 
he had made choice of that chapter, being so applicable to his present 
condition ? The Bishop replied, " May it please your Gracious Majesty. 
it is the proper lesson for the day, as appears by the Kalendar :" which 
the King was much affected with, so aptly serving as a seasonable ] re- 
paration for his death that day. — Herbert^s Memoirs, p. 131. 



JJK* 



THE RESTORATION OF THE ROYAL 
FAMILY. 



And Barzillai said unto the King, How long have I to live, that I 
fhoiild go up with the King unto Jerusalem ? — 2 Sarn. xix. 34. 



As when the paschal week is o'er, 
Sleeps m the silent aisles no more 

The breath of sacred song, 
But by the rising Saviour's light 
Awaken'd soars in airy flight, 

Or deepening rolls along z ; 

The while round altar, niche, and shrine 
The funeral evergreens entwine. 
And a dark brilliance cast, 
The brighter for their hues of gloom. 



z The organ is silent in many Churches during Passion week : and in 
some it is the custom to put up evergreen boaghs at Easter as well aa 
at Clirislmas time. 



RESTORATION OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. 415 

Tokens of Him, who through the tomb 
Into high glory pass'd : 

Such were the lights and such the strains. 
When proudly stream'd o'er Ocean plains 

Our own returning Cross ; 
For with that triumph seem'd to float 
Far on the breeze one dirgelike note 

Of orphanhood and loss. 

Father and King, O where art thou ? 
A greener wreath adorns thy brow. 

And clearer rays surround ; 
O for one hour of prayer like thine, 
To plead before th' all-ruling shrine 

For Britain lost and found ! 

And he^, whose mild persuasive voice 
Taught us in trials to rejoice, ' 

Most like a faithful dove. 
That by some ruin'd homestead builds, 
And pours to the forsaken fields 

His wonted lay of love : 

a Read Fell's life of Hammond, p. 283-296. Ojiford 1806. 



416 RESTORATION OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. 

Why comes he not to bear his part, 
To lift and guide th' exulting heart 1 — 

A hand that cannot spare 
Lies heavy on his gentle breast ; 
We wish him health ; he sighs for rest 

And Heaven accepts the prayer. 

Yes, go in peace, dear placid spright, 
111 spared ; but would we store aright 

Thy serious sweet farewell, 
We need not grudge thee to the skies, 
Sure after thee in time to rise, 

With thee for ever dwell. 



Till then, whene'er with duteous hand, 
Year after year, my native Land 

Her royal offering brings, 
Upon the Altar lays the Crown, 
And spreads her robes of old renown 

Before the King of Kings, 

Be some kind spirit, likest thine 
Ever at hand, with airs divine 



KESTORATION OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. 417 

The wandering heart to seize ; 
Whispering, " How long hast thou to live, 
** That thou should'st Hope or Fancy give 

** To flowers or crowns like these ?'* 



nd 



THE ACCESSION. 



As I was with Moses, so I will be with thee : I will not fail thee noF 
forsake thee. — Joshua i. 5. 



The voice that from the glory camf* 

To tell how Moses died unseen, 
And waken Joshua's spear of flame 

To victory on the mountains green, 
Its trumpet tones are sounding still. 

When Kings or Parents pass away, 
They greet us with a cheering thrill 

Of power and comfort in decay. 

Behind the soft bright summer cloud 

That makes such haste to melt and die, 
Our wistful gaze is oft allow'd 

A glimpse of the unchanging sky : 
Let storm and darkness do their worst ; 

For the lost dream the heart may ache, 
The heart may ache, but may not burst : 

Heaven will not leave thee nor forsake. 



THE ACCESSION. 41^ 

One rock amid the weltering floods, 

One torch in a tempestuous night, 
One changeless pine in fading woods : — 

Such is the thought of Love and Might, 
True Might and ever-present Love, 

When Death is busy near the throne, 
And sorrow her keen sting would prove 

On Monarchs orphan'd and alone. 

Tn that lorn hour and desolate, 

Who could endure a crown 1 but He, 
Who singly bore the world's sad weight. 

Is near, to whisper, " Lean on Me : 
" Thy days of toil, thy nights of care, 

" Sad lonely dreams in crowded hall, 
" Darkest within, while pageants glare 

" Around — the Cross supports them all." 

O Promise of undying Love ! 

While Monarchs seek thee for repose, 
Far in the nameless mountain cove 

Each pastoral heart thy bounty knows. 
Ye, who in place of shepherds true 

Come trembling to their awful trust, 



420 THE ACCESSIOiy. 

Lo here the fountain to imbue 

With strength and hope your feeble dust. 

Not upon Kings or Priests alone 

The power of that dear word is spent ; 
It chants to all in softest tone 

The lowly lesson of Content : 
Heaven's light is pour'd on high and low ; 

To high and low Heaven's Angel spake 
" Resign thee to thy weal or woe, 

" I ne'er will leave thee nor forsake»" 



OEDINATION. 



After this, the Congregation shall be desired, secretly in their pray- 
ers, to make their humble supplications to God for all these tsiings : foi 
the which prayers there shall be silence kept for a space. 

After which shall be sung or said by the Bishop (the persons to be 
ordained Priests all kneeling), " Veni, Creator Spiritus." 

Rubric in the Office for Ordering of Priests. 



'TwAs silence in Thy temple, Lord, 

When slowly through the hallow 'd air 

The spreading cloud of incense soar'd, 

Charged with the breath of Israel's prayer. 

. 'Twas silence round Thy throne on high, 

When the last wondrous seal unclosed'^. 
And in the portals of the sky 

Thine armies awfully reposed. 

b When He had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in Hesrjtr 
•bout the space of half an hour. — Revelations viii. 1. 
36 



422 ORDINATION. 

And this deep pause, that o'er us now 
Is liovoring -comes it not of Thee ? 

Is it not like a Mother's vow, 

When with her darling on her knee, 

She weighs and numbers o'er and o'er 

Love's treasure hid in her fond breast, 

To cull from that exhaustless store 

The dearest blessing and the best ? 

And where shall Mother's bosom find. 
With all its deep love-learned skill, 

A prayer so sweetly to her mind, 

As, in this sacred hour and still, 

Is waflted from the white-robed choir. 
Ere yet the pure high-breathed lay, 

" Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire," 
Rise floating on its dovelike way. 

And when it comes, so deep and clear 
The strain, so soft the melting fall, 

It seems not to th' entranced ear 

Less than Thine own heart-cheering call, 



ORDINATION. 423 

Spirit of Christ — Thine earnest given 

That these our prayers are heard, and thej 

Who grasp, this hour, the sword of Heaven, 
Shall feel Thee on their weary way. 

Oft as at morn or soothing eve 

Over the holy Fount they lean, 
Their fading garland freshly weave 

Or fan them with Thine airs serene.. 

Spirit of Light and Truth ! to Thee 

We trust them in that musing hour. 

Till they, with open heart and free, 

Teach all Thy word in all its power» 

When foemen watch their tents by night. 

And mists hang wide o'er moor and felij 

Spirit of Counsel and of Might, 

Their pastoral warfare guide Thou well. 

And O ! when worn and tired they sigh 
With that more fearful war within, 

When Passion's storms are loud and high, 
And brooding o'er remember'd sin, 



424 OEDINATION. 

The heart dies down— O mightiest th(ia 
Come ever true, come ever near, 

Acd wake their slumbering love agdip./ 
Spirit of God's most holy Feas I 



And is there in God's world so drear a place 
And wilt Thou hear the fever'd heart • 
Angel of wrath ! why linger in mid air • 
As rays around the source of light . • 
As when the Paschal week is o'er . • 
At length the worst is o'er, and thou art laid 
Awake — again the Gospel-trump is blown 

Beneath the burning eastern sky • e 
Bless'd are the pure in heart . o • 

Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide • 

Dear is the morning gale of spring . • 

Father to me Thou art and Mother dear • 
Fill high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour 
First Father of the holy seed ... 
Foe of mankin 1 ! too bold thy race 
36=^ 



108 
58 

105 
41 

415 

148 
21 

407 
320 

205 

334 

128 

132 

164 

94 



1.26 



ihdex. 



Go not away, thou weary soul , 
Go up and watch the new-born rill 

Hold up thy mirror to the sun • 
Hues of the rich unfolding morn • 



I mark'd a rainbow in the north • o . 

In troublous days of anguish and rebuke • 

Is it not strange, the darkest hour • • • 

Is there, in bowers of endless spring • • 

Is this a time to plant and build . • « 

It is so — ope thine eyes, and see • • c 

It was not then a poet's dream • • • 

Lessons sweet of spring returning . • • 
Lord, and what shall this man do . • • 
Lord, in Thy field I work all day • • • 

My Saviour, can it ever be . • • • 

Not till the freezing blast is still . . • 
Now is there solemn pause in earth and heaven 

O for a sculptor's hand 

O God of mercy, God of might 

hateful spell of Sin ! when friends are nigh 

holy mountain of my God .... 

O Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will 

O Youth and Toy, your airy tread . . . 



IND13X. 



427 



Of the bright things in earth and air 
Oh ! day of days ! shall hearts set free 
Oh ! say not, dream not, heavenly notes 
Oh ! Thou who deign'st to sympathize 
Oh ! who shall dare in this frail scene 
On Sinai's top, in prayer and trance 



Praise to our pardoning God ! though silent now 
Prophet of God, arise and take . 



Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun 

Say, ye celestial guards, who wait • 
See Lucifer like lightning fall • 
Seest thou, how tearful and alone . 
Since all that is not heaven must fade 
Sit down and take thy fill of joy 
Sol't cloud, that while the breeze of May 
Star of the East, how sweet art Thou 
Stately Thy walls, and holy are the prayers 
Sweet Dove ! the softest, steadiest plume 
Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies . 



Ten cleansed, and only one remain 
'T is gone, that bright and orbed blaze 
'Tis true, of old th' unchanging sun 
The bright-hair'd morn is glowing . 
The clouds that wrap the setting sun 
The Earth that in her genial breast 



428 



INDEX. 



pHge 

The heart of childhood is all mirth ... 69 

Th' historic Muse, from age to age . . . 120 

The livelong night we 've toiPd in vain . . . 226 

The midday sun, with fiercest glare . . . 315 

The morning mist is clear'd away .... 285 

The prayers are o'er : why slumberest thou so long 401 

The shadow of the Almighty's cloud . . . 5S6 

The shower of moonlight falls as still and clear . 40G 

The Son of God in doing good . . . .251 

The voice that from the glory came . . . 418 

The world's a room of sickness, where each heart . 337 

The year begins with Thee 54 

There are, who darkling and alone . . . 86 

There is an awe in mortals' joy . ... . 389 

There is a book, who runs may read . . , 91 

They know th' Almighty's power . . . 78 

Thou first-born of the year's delight . . . 160 

Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved . . . 345 

'Twas silence in Thy temple. Lord . . . 421 

Twice in her season of decay .... 341 

T Wo clouds before the summer gale . • • 36.1 

Wake, arm divine ! awake . . • . • 81 

We were not by when Jesus came . . • • 310 

Well may I guess and feel . • • • • 172 

What liberty so glad and gay . . . • • 283 

What sudden blaze of song ..... 37 

What Went ye out to see 29 

When bitter thoughts, of conscience horn . . 230 



IKDEX. 



429 



Page 

When brothers part for manhood's race . . . 307 

When God of old came down from Heaven . . 192 

When Nature tries her finest touch . . . 116 

When Persecution's torrent blaze . . . . 278 

Where is it, mothers learn their lore , . . 380 

Where is the land with milk and honey flowing . 209 

Where is Thy favour'd haunt, eternal Voice . . 282 

Who is God's chosen priest 324 

Who says, the wan autumnal sun . . . . 395 

Why blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind . . 373 

Why doth my Saviour weep 245 

Why should we faint and fear to live alone . . 295 

Will God indeed with fragments bear . . . 303 

Wish not, dear friends, my pain away . • . 266 

Ye hermits blest, ye holy maids ... 357 

Ye stars that round the Sun of Righteousness . . 361 

Ye whose hearts are beating high . • . 125 

Yes — deep within and deeper yet . • . • 102 



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